


give you what you want

by KikiJ



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: (not between the main characters), Alternate Universe, Attempted Sexual Assault, Breeding Kink, Dating, Discussion of Prior Sex Work, Drinking, F/M, Fingerfucking, Friends With Benefits, Oral Sex, Period Sex, Playing around with characterization as well :p, Romance Novel Esque Setting, Romanticization of the characters and a canonically iffy relationship (lol), Semi-Public Sex, Smoking, Vaginal Sex, background Mark/Sam and occasional Adam/Caleb, jerk with a heart of gold trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 46,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28598337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KikiJ/pseuds/KikiJ
Summary: Right before she was about to go on yet another first date, Joan Bryant runs into her self-proclaimed old friend Damien. The date ultimately goes nowhere, and, against her better judgement, Joan winds up inviting Damien back to her place to catch up.Joan is at a turning point in her life, having recently been let go from the AM and just re-entered the dating scene for the fun of it. Joan is doing her best to take it one day at a time, weigh her options, and come what may.If she happens to reconnect with a former not-patient, maybe it won’t be the worst thing in the world- even if he’s a bit of an egocentric jerk.
Relationships: Joan Bright/Damien
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Canon characterization? Do Not Know Her... Full disclosure: I finished The Bright Sessions a long time ago and I’m not interested in relistening, so I’m playing fast and loose with the setting here. The AM is still a shady org but not AS shady, Mark is around and doing well. SO Damien and Joan have Fine relationship but he has a history of being annoying and egotistical and Joan doesn’t have tons of patience for him. 
> 
> This was gonna be a one-shot but then I got Into It so the first chapter is inordinately long, oops. 
> 
> Lastly, this story is dedicated to the approximately 6 other people who enjoy this pairing 🥺🥺🥺 if any of you are still around, I hope you enjoy fjghkfdj

“Heeeey Dr B! Long time, no see. You clean up nicely,” Damien says, a smarmy admiration in his voice as he rakes his eyes over Joan’s seated figure. 

“Oh, it’s you,” Joan says, glancing him up and down in turn. He’s in a grey t-shirt with a black jacket and darker grey jeans.

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

“Former sort-of patient,” she corrects, and lifts her wine glass to her deep cherry lips. He glances at the empty chair opposite of her small table.

“Waiting on someone, Doc?”

Joan shifts, and runs her tongue over her teeth, “Yes. And I’m not really using my professional title anymore,” she informs him.

That makes his brows lift, “Whattaya mean?”

“Well, I’m not practicing as a therapist, so there’s really no need to be professional or use Doctor with me,” she informs him, back straight. “A couple months ago, my contract with the AM was not renewed and there’s not really any other place I’m able to work as a therapist in my _particular_ field, so… Not that I was ever _really_ your therapist, mind you.”

“Geeze. They’d have to be pretty stupid to let a mind like you go,” Damien mutters, voice dark. Joan just shrugs.

“I was told I wasn’t quite suited to the direction the corporation was moving,” Joan says carefully. “Nothing _personal_ though, just business.”

“Bullshit,” Damien snorts, and Joan tilts her chin to agree. Then, she glances at the door as a tall man in a blazer walks in.

“That would be my date,” she says, looking at Damien expectantly. He glances over as well, then gives her a wolfish grin.

“Catch you later, Dr B,” Damien says quietly, clapping her on the shoulder before he strides away and takes a seat at the bar.

Joan stands to accept a brief hug from her date. She doesn’t have too much time to linger on the interaction with Damien. As she glances at the little drink menu, she thinks on it anyway.

Joan doesn’t see Damien often lately.

Ages ago, he’d gotten into a physical altercation that left his ability significantly weakened, perhaps permanently. To her credit, she tried to help him out with it, but he’d gotten frustrated and sulked away and she hasn’t heard from him since. She didn’t pay much mind at the time- she was not prepared to baby him, especially since the very ability he wanted back was one he often used irresponsibly, including on herself.

Truth be told, Joan could almost never understand what he was playing at, and she’d long since stopped trying to figure it out. His unpredictable nature irked her. It was harder to feel in control around him, not only because of his ability, but just his manner in general. She never knew what he was going to say, or what direction he would try to take things, could never tell what he wanted or what game he was playing. Still, she wasn’t on edge just speaking to him- she wouldn’t allow him that much power over her.

Joan’s date grabs her attention a moment later, and they start to discuss a current news event, and speak a bit about their families as they order some food.

The date is... fine. They talk, they eat, and Joan finishes a second glass of wine but refuses anything more.

In the end, it’s certainly nothing to write home about, not really. Joan doesn’t feel a ton of chemistry, if she’s honest, so as she stands to leave once he’s paid. When her date suggests he walk her home, Joan glances to the side.

She happens to catch the back of Damien’s head, his tousled hair, and watches him tilt back to finish a drink. She says, “Um, actually, I have a friend back at the bar who I was going to catch up with after this. You know how it is, meeting people on apps and all that,” Joan fakes a little laugh. She folds her jacket over her arm.

Sam and Chloe set her up on a couple dating apps, and Joan definitely doesn’t trust them. Although it’s obviously untrue she asked Damien to be there and look out for her, Mark and Sam both know where she is and would be at the ready to rescue if need be.

“Ah, of course,” the man nods. Joan flashes him a just so slightly strained smile and turns to walk over to Damien, probably too quickly.

When she arrives, she lets out a breath. He looks over at her, coy smile spreading on his face.

“Bad date, Dr B?”

“He was fine,” she mutters as she sits on the stool next to him. He lifts his recently refilled glass to take a sip, and then places it down before sliding it towards her.

Joan looks at him with narrowed eyes, but lifts the cup to drink from it despite herself.

“How have you been? Aside from becoming jobless,” he asks her. Joan finds herself wanting to tell him.

“Not bad. I spend time with my brother and Sam. I’ve established more personal relationships with some of my former clients, so now that I don’t treat them, I would suppose they’re friends,” Joan says. Then, she glances at him from the corner of her eye.

“Good to hear. Hope you think of me the same way! As a friend, of course,” Damien smirks.

“Well, that is what I told that man over there,” Joan half-snorts. Then she glares at him. “Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“You know what, Damien.”

“I’m barely even trying,” he insists with a chuckle. 

Joan huffs quietly. She picks up his drink again, sipping it, and then slides it over to him again. It’s a nice scotch, actually, so she almost regrets giving it back.

His dark brown eyes connect with hers and he smirks at her again. He takes a long drink, and passes her back the remainder. “Finish it, then we can get outta here.”

“Oh, I’m leaving with you, am I?” Joan asks, voice level. She plucks the glass from his hand and finishes the drink, then sets it on the counter.

“Only if you want to,” Damien says, voice low and smooth.

She thinks on it for a moment. She can tell he’s _not_ exerting any influence over her, actually. Joan may be out of practice dealing with him, but now that she’s caught onto his ability she can feel whether he’s trying or not. It’s interesting. 

Joan glances back towards the dining room and notices her date still there, too. He moved tables, but he’s sitting with a drink. He’s not looking towards her, so she wrinkles her nose and sighs.

“At the very least you can walk me out,” she tells Damien.

“Oh, how charitable of you,” Damien coos, dripping with sarcasm.

“You said you wanted to be my friend,” she replies plainly. He slides off the bar stool as she does, and looks her up and down again.

“Y’know, red is a _good_ color on you,” he says with the click of his tongue.

“Don’t be weird,” she tells him without a second thought. He just barks a laugh as she pulls her jacket onto her shoulders.

She’s wearing a fairly plain red dress with a small slit to the side of her right knee. It still feels like a bold choice for her, it hugs the curves of her body and the color is bright, but Sam insisted it looks elegant and appealing.

Damien places a hand on the small of her back as they walk out of the bar, and Joan looks straight ahead as they pass where her date was sitting the last time she looked.

Damien continues to walk with her, and once they reach the empty sidewalk, he drops his hand.

Joan is the one to break the silence. “Your ability has… strengthened, has it not? Since the last time we saw one another.”

“Marginally,” he sighs. “It is stronger than before, but I haven’t been doing a lot. I think it’s just a _time_ thing.”

“Time heals all wounds,” Joan says sagely.

“Bullshit,” Damien retorts.

“Yeah. Wounds only fester with time, most require at least some intervention at some point in order to truly heal, even if time is required as well.”

“There’s the Doctor I know,” Damien smirks, slings his arm around her shoulder.

“I’m not even that type of doctor, you know,” she says softly. Damien tilts his head.

“Y’know, that reminds me… you sound less broken up about getting sacked than I might have expected,” he comments. She shrugs.

“I liked what I did. I am worried I won’t like what I do next as much. But… a career change can be a good thing. I think I’ll be okay, anyway.”

“Classic Dr B. Always so wise and optimistic.”

That makes her laugh. “You really think I’m optimistic?”

“Well, about most things. If you didn’t believe things would mostly be okay, you’d be a shit therapist.”

“I guess that’s true. I try to view things realistically, and I know I am fairly employable, so that helps settle my mind,” she allows. A moment later, she adds, “You absolutely don’t have to walk me all the way home, you know. I am a big girl.”

“Think nothing of it, Doc.”

“You _can_ call me Joan, though.”

“Eh. We’ll see about that. Anyway,” Damien heaves a sigh, “more about me! The ability's a little… better. It's easier to control, in a way, it takes more effort now. I have to try a little harder to make people want the same things as me, so it’s not just _happening_ all the time anymore. I _am_ still pretty good at making people wanna give me shit for free, probably because I really like getting shit for free.”

“Hm. I’m sure you’re not surprised to hear that I'd consider better control a good thing,” Joan says. “No comment on the getting shit for free part.”

“Y’know, I think better control is a good thing too! Now that I’ve had some time to adjust, anyway. Maybe I’m not a total lost cause, hey, Dr B?”

“Oh please, Damien,” Joan sighs and does not elaborate, though she can tell he wants her to explain what she means by that. “Well. This is me,” she announces, reaching into her purse and grabbing the keys to her little townhouse, and walking up the stairs. 

“I am well aware,” Damien tells her. “Say. Don’t you want to invite me in?”

“Damien,” Joan groans loudly. His ability prods at her obnoxiously. She opens the door, steps inside, and then holds the door open for him to join her.

“Awh, thanks, Doc!” 

“You are the worst,” she tells him plainly, no true malice in her voice.

“You don’t really mean that, do you?” he asks innocently. She doesn’t dignify it with a response, but toes out of her sensible heels and drops her purse on the coffee table on her way over to her liquor cabinet.

“Hey, where’s your bathroom?” Damien asks, and she points him in the direction of the hall.

Joan tosses her jacket on a chair in the kitchen and pours two glasses of whiskey, adds some ice, then goes to sit on the couch. She places one glass on the coffee table, and one on the end table beside her. She sits with her back against some pillows on the armrest, her knees bent, twisting to grab her cup, drink, and then place it down again.

When Damien returns, he sits on the other end of the couch.

“Really? There are two other chairs and I was _just_ about to stretch my legs out,” Joan complains.

“Stretch them, then,” Damien retorts, and when she glares he picks up her calves and plops them into his lap.

“Hey!” she says.

With his hands on her legs, he realizes she’s wearing pantyhose that match her skintone so well they’re almost unnoticeable. Hot, he thinks.

Then, he takes her foot and starts working the muscle on the bottom with his two hands.

“Excuse me. What are you doing?” 

“Awh, c’mon, Dr B! Don’t tell me you’ve never had a foot rub before?”

“ _Damien-"_

“I mean, that ex of yours, he must have given you one at least once, right? What’s his name, Doctor Brown?”

“-Agent Green.”

“Yeah, that’s him! He seriously never gave you a foot rub _ever_?”

“Of course he did,” Joan all but snaps. She groans, though it could be masking a pleasant moan considering he is still gently but firmly pressing his thumbs into the bottom of her foot in a way that feels surprisingly practiced. “It has been a long time since we were dating- I haven’t exactly been in foot rub territory with any of the countless first dates I’ve gone on in the past few months either,” she grumbles. “Not that I’d have forgotten what a foot rub is but- ugh.”

Damien just laughs at her through his nose and moves to her other foot. This time, she presses her lips together to stifle the groan she wants to make.

“You are shockingly good at that,” she comments as nonchalantly as possible, and twists to take another mouthful of her drink.

“I am a man of many talents,” he informs her with a wink. She snorts against her glass and he glares for a second.

“I guess. Honestly, I don’t know that much about what you do with your time. You’ve always been cagey about yourself in the weirdest way possible.”

Damien hums, taking it as an invitation. “Work is boring, so I don’t really bother, but occasionally I take a class or two for fun. Y’know, when the instructors really want to share their knowledge with me. I do like art, actually, and cooking is pretty fun.”

“Hm,” Joan gives a firm nod, “interesting.”

A beat of silence passes between them. It’s blessed, but short.

“You know, if its been this long since you’ve even had a foot rub, I’ve gotta wonder, how long since you’ve…” Damien trails off pointedly and looks her up and down, even moving his hand to rest on her inner calf.

“Excuse me?” she repeats, crossing one leg over the other although it effectively traps his hand on her calf.

“Oh, come on. What’s an update on your sex life between friends?” his expression is salacious. Hers is indignant.

Then, Joan sips her drink and snorts again, “Even if we _were_ close, I don’t talk about my sex life with my friends.”

“Seriously?” he asks, and Joan gives him a skeptical look, brows pressed together.

She places her glass down and uncrosses her legs, allowing him to skim his fingers along her calf as she holds her hands up to count on her fingers, “Let’s see here, my friend group consists of: 1, my brother, 2 his girlfriend, 3, a college freshman, and 4, an asexual woman who would prefer not to discuss sex in detail. So, safe to say, I don’t talk about sex with _any_ of those people.”

“Five, a devilishly handsome, fun-loving man the same age as you,” Damien adds, and leans forward to pluck his glass from the table and drink. Joan sighs dramatically.

“Well. It doesn’t help that there isn’t much to report,” she almost grits out, and Damien smirks at her.

“Was that so hard?” he asks, and she rolls her eyes to the ceiling.

“Nosy,” she says.

“Curious,” he corrects in a generous voice, his hand skimming up a little further. “No wonder you’re still so uptight.”

“Really?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. “In all honesty, I feel this is the most open and relaxed I may have ever been with you, at least willingly. I’ve hardly even tapped into my more professional persona.”

“I suppose that’s fair. I like that you’re not trying to put me in the patient zone,” he smirks.

That makes her laugh again, abrupt.

“You know damn well, we never had a proper patient-therapist relationship in the first place.”

“Oh, but it was sweet to watch you try,” Damien says gleefully, his hand coming up to squeeze her thigh just above her knee.

“Damien,” she says carefully, as he strokes her skin with his thumb.

“Dr B,” he replies in much the same tone, catching her eye and looking at her with a heated expression.

Joan shifts. It’s interesting. She can feel what he wants but he’s trying _not_ to push for it. She bites her lip. Then, she says,

“You aren’t using your ability on me.” Her voice is soft and a bit questioning.

His expression turns to distaste.

“Fuck, Joan. You really think I’m going to influence you like _that_?”

She just blinks, and he moves his hand back to her calf.

“I don’t- I know my morals are questionable at best, and I’ve done plenty things you don’t approve of. But it’s not hot if the person doesn’t want it. So I figure, why not just _ask_ , and if the person in question isn’t interested, they’ll want to forget all about the awkward conversation, forever.”

Joan huffs a quiet laugh, then she thinks. “Wait, have you propositioned me before, then?” she asks, pushing herself up a bit closer to him. He rolls his eyes.

“No. You’ll have to trust me on that though because I am serious about making you forget if you say no.”

“Okay…” She hums, pressing her lips together as she quickly glances over him. He _is_ hot, for some reason. Joan settles on asking him, “Well, what is it you want to do to me?”

Damien quirks a brow. “Tell me you want it, Doc, and you’ll find out pretty quickly.”

“I can’t know if I want it unless you tell me what you’re offering. Besides, you can just make me forget, right?”

Damien licks his lips. “Fair. Fine,” he starts, and he angles his body towards her more, her legs moving to be a bit more open as he grips the outside of her thigh now.

Joan looks at him, steady. Her expression is level and hard to read. 

When he goes on, Damien speaks slowly, voice dropping low, “I wanna push your dress up around your hips, and eat you out ‘til you’re screaming for it. Then, if you’re amenable, have you suck my cock for a minute or two, just until you’re ready for me to fuck you right into the cushions.”

Joan’s face darkens as she listens to his voice, deep and gravelly. She can hear and feel how bad he wants it, but he must be actively resisting influencing her.

“Alright,” Joan says, voice quiet. He perks a brow again, “I have an amendment to the plan, though,” she says, and he blinks at her in surprise he wasn’t quick enough to mask. She presses a heel into his knee for a second before she pushes herself up again and moves to sit on her knees beside him.

“Yeah?” he asks slowly, watching her every move.

“Needs more foreplay. I feel like going from Zero to Head is a bit of a jump. You could at least kiss me first,” Joan says, slowly pulling up her skirt until it's at a point where she can spread her legs enough to straddle his lap. She does so, and he stares up at her in awe.

“Okay,” he says, swallowing.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” she asks, tilting her head.

“Yes,” he chokes out, and she smirks before sliding her hands into his hair and pressing their lips together with no further hesitation.

Joan shoves his tongue into his mouth and his hands come up to cup her ass as she settles into his lap. She can feel his tongue piercing as he licks at her tongue and before pushing into her mouth instead, exploring. He draws a moan from her as he bites her lower lip gently before pulling back to glance her up and down.

“Fuck, Dr B.”

Joan just leans forward and kisses him again, tangling their tongues together as she pulls on his hair and he squeezes the backs of her thighs.

Then, he places one hand on the inside of her thigh, squeezing her flesh and caressing her, hearing her sigh against his lips.

Damien pulls back from her and kisses her jaw, his lips searing every place they touch as she tilts her head slowly. He lifts his hand to her shoulder blade to pull her closer as he goes, kissing her exposed skin. She steadies her hands on his shoulders as he sucks on the skin of her neck, nipping her, listening for her reaction as he moves to the dip between her neck and shoulder. He feels the grip of her short, sensible nails on his shoulder and moans against her.

Joan bites her lip and shuts her eyes as he lavishes her neck, knowing damn well he’s not going to be careful about leaving marks- she doesn’t bother telling him to avoid it. It’s been literal years since she’s had a hickey, but she doesn’t have a job to cover them up at now so it’s a better time than most to get one.

She can feel his fingers creeping up the inside of her leg, slowly brushing over her pantyhose where they’re stretched between her legs from her position.

“Damien,” Joan mutters, and he glances up at her with glazed eyes.

“Hm?”

“Uh. Step two,” she says, and he furrows his brows. “Of the plan- I, I want you to-”

“Oh. You want me to eat you out?”

“Yes,” Joan says, cheeks burning as he smirks like a shark in bloody water.

“Well, as the lady desires,” he says, and she snorts lightly. He pushes her dress up and over her hips, leaning to press his face in her chest. “Wanna take a seat, Joanie?”

Joan debates telling him not to call her that. What she says is, “Yeah, sure.”

She climbs off his lap and sits on the seat as he slides somewhat gracefully to the floor in front of her, his hands coming up to her thighs.

“Wait,” she says, and he looks startled momentarily. Joan takes the throw pillows from the side of the couch and hands them to him, “it’ll be marginally more comfortable on your knees.”

Damien laughs lightly, “Damn, Dr B. You’re a saint.”

“Because I want you to be marginally more comfortable?”

“Yeah,” he says, and she regards him with skepticism.

She guesses, perhaps, he’s not used to people (or, her, at least) being nice to him unless he’s forced her with his ability. Still, calling her saint is sort of pushing it.

“Oh,” she says, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Have you been tested recently?”

Damien outright rolls his eyes at her and Joan glares in response.

“Yes. I’m clean,” he says.

“Having an STI wouldn’t make you _dirty_. They’re very common and easily passed on, oftentimes without detection,” Joan replies and he tilts his head back and rubs his temples. “What?” she asks. She doesn’t bother reminding him he didn’t ask her back, but she knows she’s free from STI.

“Nothing. You’re beautiful. Can lick your cunt now?”

“Please,” she snips back, and he just smirks up at her.

With that, Damien pushes her knees apart, kissing the inside of her thighs.

Joan takes in a deep breath through her nose as Damien runs his hands up her thighs to the waistband of her pantyhose. She lifts her hips and helps him roll them down her legs. He discards them on the floor.

When she got dressed for her date, she decided against panties underneath the hose, since she’d only be in them for a few hours.

It strikes her as funny for a moment that she _was_ on a date, yet took home a different man to have sex with. No matter, though. 

With Damien’s encouragement, she moves forward to the edge of the couch and spreads her legs in front of him, biting a knuckle as she watches him kiss her way up her thighs. He brushes the back of his hand over the hair between her legs, trimmed but absolutely not waxed bare.

Joan feels a jolt of electricity run through her as Damien slides two fingers between the lips of her cunt, stroking up and down before exposing her clit and leaning in to lick her.

Her breath comes out as a sighing moan, and she twists her hands in his hair again. He seems to take it as an indication to push forward, or maybe he was about to anyway, and laves his tongue against her clit in long strokes that leave her panting.

Joan shuts her eyes as he licks down over her entrance and collects slick on his tongue before going up to push against her clit again, this time closing his lips and sucking on her, hard.

“God,” Joan whines, pulling on his hair just a bit. He sucks her again before swirling his tongue around her clit, moving so the ball of the piercing circles her instead, and then licking her up and down a few more times.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Damien mumbles against her, pressing a sloppy kiss to the inside of her thigh as he looks up at her. She opens her eyes to glance down as he asks, “Can I finger you, too?”

“Yes,” Joan says without hesitation, and she sees his gleeful little smirk in response. It’s almost _endearing._

So, he shifts his position so he can slide his middle finger inside of her. She gasps, and he adds another right away because she took the first one so easily, then he pumps them slowly as Joan shuts her eyes again and moans.

Damien takes a moment to look at her, her red dress bunched up around her waist as her chest heaves. Her hair is down, laying in loose waves over her shoulders. Her hands are at her sides, now, gripping the fabric of her sofa as he curls his fingers and fucks her harder. She moans, loudly, so he takes it she likes that.

“Good girl,” he coos, “I like hearing you moan for me.”

Joan squeezes her eyes tighter and then looks at him, and he can tell her face is a little more flushed than it was a moment before. He smirks at her and just bends forward to tongue her clit again.

“You’re… ugh,” she says, and he just sucks on her. He’s sure she knows he’d be smirking if he could.

If she truly minds the dirty talk, she makes no further indication, and he gets the feeling she liked it. Instead, she plays with his hair again and shuts her eyes, pushing her hips forward and sighing loudly.

Damien flicks is tongue over her a little faster, taking note that she seems to like it better a little faster and a little harder. So, he keeps it up as her moaning continues.

“Fuck,” Joan groans. When she gasps and says, “there, there,” Damien makes sure to keep doing the exact same thing with both his tongue and his fingers until she tenses around him and screams out, reaching her climax and pulling hard on his hair. 

Damien eases away from her and wipes his face on the inside of his arm, chuckling to himself as he looks up to see Joan with an arm over her eyes, slumped back against the sofa.

“Good, baby?” Damien asks her.

She slowly lowers her arm from her eyes. “Baby?”

“Oh, yeah, my bad. It’s a commonly used pet name in American English. You might be familiar with the language?” he lets out a half-scoff, half-laugh, and she gives him a look like she’s _so_ tired. Damien’s sure he’s seen echoes of the expression on her face before, but, without her professional persona up, it’s both way more sincere, and exaggerated.

It just makes him grin as he pushes himself from the couch and puts a knee between hers so he can lean over and kiss her.

Joan kisses him back, tasting herself on his tongue. She skims her hands over his sides, and moves to unbuckle his belt as he sucks on her tongue much like he did her clit. He moves to unbutton and unzip his jeans, and she tugs the denim down his hips then squeezes his cock through his boxers.

Damien groans into her mouth and pulls back from her, swallowing thickly as she plays with his cock lightly. “Wanna sit down?” she asks him, and he nods wordlessly.

He takes a seat next to her and she angles her body toward him, taking a moment to lean over and grab a hair elastic from her purse on the table. She gathers her hair at the back of her head and pulls it through the elastic.

Damien clicks his tongue at her, “What’re you doing that for? Your hair looks good when it’s down.”

“If I’m going to blow you, I want your cock in my mouth, not my hair. The ponytail stays,” Joan says with finality, and he just rolls his eyes. Then, she slips a silver packet out of her purse and holds it in her hand, leaning over him to kiss him on the neck, her cheek brushing against the hair on his jaw. She trails kisses down his neck as her hand moves to his boxers again, tracing the outline of his cock with her finger.

“Jesus, Dr B,” Damien grumbles, and she sucks on his skin right under his ear. She trails her hand up and moves to push his boxers down, revealing his cock.

Joan sits back for a moment to tear open the packet she took from her purse, squeezing some lube into her palm before she takes his cock again and strokes a few times. Damien tilts his head back to groan again.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and she kisses his neck down to his collar, squeezing his cock around the head before stroking down his shaft and back up again. “Joan,” he whines. She brings her lips back up below his ear and bites gently.

Slowly, Joan pulls away and then moves so she can bend over his lap. He places a hand on her back, above the place her dress is still bunched up around her middle, riding ever higher as she moves around. She holds the base of his cock and starts by swirling her tongue around the head and licking up his shaft once, twice, and finally taking his cock into her mouth.

Damien strokes his knuckles up and down her back and moans as she sucks his cock and bobs down further. She’s taking it slow, making sure to ease herself onto it and not choke.

To his credit, Damien does his best to be patient and, only after she seems to have a good rhythm does he twist her ponytail around his hand and grip her hair like she had with him. She might tense slightly, but he isn’t _pushing_ or _pulling_ at her, just holding her as she swallows around his cock.

“God, Joan,” he says as she tongues the head of his cock again and takes a moment to breathe, stroking him couple times in the meanwhile. She breathes out through her nose before going down on him again, shutting her eyes and sucking hard.

Joan moves with him when he pushes his hips up a bit to meet her, unsurprised at his insistence. She lets her jaw relax and feels his grip on her hair tighten as he fucks into her mouth.

Damien shutters a few moments later, sighing out. “Hey, Dr B,” he says, scratching his bitten down nails along her scalp. She slowly pulls from him, a string of spit at the corner of her mouth. God, he’s not gonna want to forget that mental image.

“Hm?” she says.

“Let me fuck you,” he says. It’s a request, not a demand.

Joan bites her lip and nods.

“Tell me you want it,” Damien says. Still a request.

“I want you to fuck me,” Joan tells him, voice low, as she pushes herself back up to sit.

She reaches back into her purse and pulls out a condom, handing it to him before she grabs the throw pillows from the floor and arranges them on the coach. Then she lies back, hooking her foot on the back of the couch and splaying her other knee to the side, foot on the floor.

Damien looks her up and down slowly and Joan feels suddenly a bit shy, displaying herself so brazenly to him. She doesn’t get the time to settle in the awkward feeling, though, because Damien crawls between her legs and pushes his cock up between her folds, nudging her clit, before lining up to push inside her cunt.

“Fuck,” Joan bites down on her lip, tossing her head back as he stretches into her. His hand lands next to her head on the arm of the couch as he slowly pulls out and rolls his hips back in, making her eyelids flutter.

Joan bites her lip as she pushes her hips up to meet his a few moments later, the air filling with sounds of moaning and their bodies meeting.

Damien slows and leans back so he can get his hand between their bodies, touching her clit lightly as he looks her up and down and fucks into her at a leisurely pace for now. The half-clothed look is hot, but he’s sorely regretting not getting to see her tits. He doesn’t want to kill the moment by stopping them to undress her further, though.

Joan bites down on her lip, pushing herself up just a bit. “Hey, I want to unzip my dress,” she says, and he screws up his face in confusion for a second as she tries to get a hand behind her back.

“Shit,” he laughs, and then he brings a hand behind her to unzip her dress for her. “That’s my fault, sorry,” he tells her, and she tilts her head for a split second before she rolls her eyes. Her dress is a bit crumpled and loose in the front, now, but she stops going out of her way to take it off.

“Wow,” she says, and he just bites back another laugh, leaning forward again to kiss her and fuck her harder again, hopefully distracting from his slip-up.

Joan apparently doesn’t hold it against him, but she does end up hooking the leg she’d hiked up on the couch around his waist, so she has better purchase to roll her hips up into him and force his cock deeper inside her.

With her squeezing around him, Damien grunts and swears in her ear, and she scratches down his back with her nails, which only seems to drive him to fuck into her harder.

Damien comes with a shout as she digs her heel into his thigh and keeps him close to her, panting and biting her lip. Then, he allows himself to fall on top of her, even as she groans loudly in annoyance.

“Damien,” she whines a few minutes later, and he heaves a loud sigh.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, slowly pushing himself up off her. When he has the chance, he leans down and kisses her again, and she kisses him back, a hand coming to his cheek.

“Here,” Joan says, pushing him away. He settles back to sitting, and she twists and leans over to grab a trash can under her end table, feeling his hand squeeze the back of her thigh before she pulls it over.

Damien does away with the condom and Joan stands up, tugging her dress down her body as if modesty has any place in this whole situation.

“Where’re you going?” he asks, his hand skimming along her thigh.

“The bathroom,” she says with a roll of her eye, and leaves him on the couch.

When she returns to the living room, Damien is leaning against the arm of the couch drinking a glass of water, his boxers pulled up but his pants still undone and hanging around his hips.

He offers her his glass and she takes it, drinking some of the water. 

“You tired, Dr B?” he asks, looking her up and down slowly.

“Not particularly,” Joan answers truthfully. “We _cannot_ fuck on the couch again, though. My back can’t handle that.”

Damien laughs at her. “Surely you have another surface we can defile, then?”

“How about the bed?”

“Ah, truly adventurous.”

“I mean, we could always call it a night if I’m boring you _that_ terribly,” she says, pulling her hair from the elastic and shaking it out before re-doing the ponytail to be neater.

“Nope, certainly not bored. Just teasin’, Joanie,” Damien holds up his hands and she gives him another clearly displeased look.

Then, she turns and heads towards the stairs, pausing partway up to look down at him and jerk her head so he’ll follow.

Damien finishes the glass of water and trails behind her. Once his feet reach the carpet of her bedroom, he lifts his hands and runs them over her hips, pulling her back towards him. Joan reaches behind her to tangle her hand in his hair again as he kisses along her neck, noticing the bruises he already left on the opposite side.

He slips his hands under her dress, pushing it up at the top of her thighs and sliding his hand between her legs again. Damien is fairly certain she didn’t come a second time when they were fucking on the couch.

Damien rubs circles around her clit for a few moments before he moves to pull the zipper of her dress down the rest of they way.

“I want you naked,” he tells her, voice a low growl. He restrains himself, though, forcing himself to not influence her.

Still, Damien watches her as she lets the dress pool to the floor and then reaches her hand to the clasp of her deep purple bra to undo it.

“Okay, but I can’t be the only one,” Joan says, glancing over her shoulder at him. Damien nods, and pulls his grey shirt off over his head, and then shoves his pants the rest of the way down.

Joan walks over to her bedside table, flicks on the light, then grabs another condom and a bottle of lube instead of a packet, and finally crawls onto her bed.

Damien takes just a second as he’s getting rid of his boxers to glance around her room. A muted blue and purple color pattern, some modern-y art on the walls. Nothing particularly personal except for a couple photos of herself and her brother on floating shelves. 

He decides not to comment on the décor as she lies back on her elbows, one knee bent and her legs close together. He crawls on the bed over her, and smirks.

“Awh, Dr B, don’t tell me you’re all shy now that you’re out of your sexy red dress, hm?” Damien teases, his hand on her knee. She just gives him a look of mild discomfort. “Don’t like it when I talk to you like this? Guess I shouldn’t have expected you to be a real slut.”

“You- wait,” she opens and shuts her mouth a couple of times as he raises a brow. Joan draws her other knee up and presses her legs a bit closer together. “First of all, I actually do like hearing you say nasty things to me, to a certain point. And- you have my permission to call me a slut, even, but I find it hard to believe you _genuinely_ thought I was going to be particularly slutty, or even forward, with men.”

“Hey, sometimes the snobby and bookish chicks happen to be secret freaks,” Damien says with a shrug. “Maybe it was just wishful thinking, though,” he winks.

“You’ve… thought about me, like that? Like this, I guess,” she asks, and he gives her that tired look she gave him earlier. Though, Damien realizes perhaps he should just be glad she isn’t pissed he called her a snob. “What?”

“I mean, clearly,” he says, gesturing to her body. “Anyway, _this_ is not sexy conversation. C’mon, slut, spread your legs for me,” Damien cajoles loudly, putting his hands on her knees and opening them with some force. Joan squeaks, and he grips under her knees and pulls her closer to him, then moves his hand between her legs to lightly brush against her hair.

“God,” she says, gritting her teeth. 

“Tell me to stop,” he says to her, smug. Damien slips his fingers between her folds and presses against her clit again, “if you want me to.” Joan frowns.

“No.”

“No, as in, ‘no, don’t do what you’re doing’? Or ‘no, don’t stop’.”

“Don’t stop,” she says, and he smirks.

“Attagirl,” he replies, sliding his fingers down to push inside her again. Joan sighs a moan and lets herself settle onto the bed fully.

With his free hand, Damien strokes his cock. It’s been long enough he’s starting to get hard again, but he doesn’t feel the need to rush it either.

So, after a moment of fingering her, he leans over her chest to kiss along her tits and play with her clit gently, licking one nipple as he tweaks the other with his fingers. He moves to press the ball of his piercing around her other nipple and hears her breathy little sighs, glancing up to see her kiss-bitten lips and glazed expression. 

Damien slowly kisses down her body, and then changes his position entirely so he can lie on the bed and eat her out again. He pushes her other thighs out, once again licking down to taste her slick and then sucking gently on her clit.

Joan tilts her head back and moans, louder than earlier. Damien brings up his hand and fingers her, still gentle.

“Fuck,” she whines, and he thinks he hears her whisper _harder_. He doesn’t listen anyway, lapping at her clit at a downright lazy pace.

Damien continues to go at it languidly until his cock is hard and he’s really itching to fuck her again. He lifts his head, licking his lips from her wetness.

“Joan,” he says, and she opens her eyes to him. “Want me to fuck you again?”

“Mmmh,” she says.

“Let me hear you say it, then,” he tells her, and she smirks. He figures she knows that’s what he’s angling for by now.

“Fuck me,” she says rather plainly, pulling her hair from the ponytail and shaking it over her shoulders.

“Hmm. Are you sure you want it badly enough?” Damien asks, pushing himself up and crawling between her legs.

“Ugh,” Joan resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Damien, just fuck me.”

“A _please_ never hurt anyone, did it, Dr B?”

Joan picks up the condom she brought to the bed and holds it against his chest. “Damien, fuck me, _please,_ ” she says again, and he chuckles at her.

“Sure,” he says with a shrug, and he takes the condom from her and rolls it onto his cock, and then hooks his hands under her knees.

“Wait,” she says, and he pauses. Joan reaches behind her and grabs a pillow, and then moves to place it under her hips, so they’re angled up towards him.

“Good idea, baby,” he says, and she makes a face at the pet name. “So, you like being called slut better?”

“Just shut up,” Joan implores. Damien smiles at her.

“Thought you liked it when I said dirty things,” he teases, taking one of her knees in his hand again as he moves closer to her again.

“I mean-,” Joan huffs. Damien laughs at her, sliding his cock between her folds slowly before lining himself up and pushing into her heat.

“Fuck, baby,” he says, “you feel so good.”

Joan bites her lip and moans, shutting her eyes and letting herself feel his cock fill her. An idle thought crosses her mind, that she almost wishes they were barebacking because she’d love to have him cum inside her, but that’s a bit much for a first time together. 

She knows the desire isn’t coming from him, because it’s nothing new to her. Although it’s a fantasy she tends not to share until she’s in a serious partnership, and even then…

Joan just lifts her arms to his shoulders and pushes her hips up to meet him as he starts to rocking into her.

“Fuck,” she whines, and he leans close to her, kissing her neck once more. She already knows she looks wrecked from when she went to the bathroom, bruises blooming in a couple places. It’s only gonna get worse from here.

“Joan,” he growls into her ear. “I wanna hear you say my name,” he says, and she swallows.

Damien pulls back enough to look at her before kissing her, speaking against her lips. “Please,” he says, slowing his pace to match his surprisingly gentle and honest-sounding plea.

Joan shivers, his lips kissing the skin just beneath her ear. 

“Fuck,” Joan squeezes her eyes shut, “Damien,” she breathes, and he grips her hip to drive into her harder. She gasps, “yes.”

“That’s it, baby,” he says, then he chuckles. “You like it, slut? You want me to fuck you harder?”

“Yes, ugh, Damien,” Joan whines in the back of her throat, then breathes out his name once more.

_God_ , she wants to feel him cum inside her. Well. Maybe next time. Not that she should just assume there will be a next time. Of course, it seems like he’d be pretty amenable to the idea. Maybe that’s being presumptuous, but…

“God, fuck me,” Joan squeezes her eyes shut, dragging her nails down his back. He bites along her collar and she pushes her hips up towards him, wrapping a leg around him again.

Damien thrusts ever harder, and then slows just long enough to sit up against her, hooking her knee with one hand, and bringing the other hand to her front. He slips his fingers between her legs and finds her clit, rubbing in good time with his thrusts as he picks up speed again.

“Damien,” Joan tilts her head back, dragging out his name. He looks her up and down, taking in all the marks he’s left on her with a dark expression on his face.

“I wanna feel you come on my cock, Joan,” he says, and her breath hitches. “Scream my name like the little slut you are, for me.”

“God, Damien,” she gasps, biting down on her lip as he fucks her hard and relentless, the tip of his finger circling her clit.

Joan twists her hands in her bedsheets and opens her eyes momentarily, screaming out again as she comes.

Damien bites down on his lip and rides her through it, feeling her tighten and squeeze around him. Then, he slowly pulls away from her as she slumps down, breathing heavy.

“Good, baby?” he asks, just as he had the first time.

“Yeah,” she says, practically gulping for air. He squeezes her thighs and looks down at her with a surprisingly gentle smile. Joan sits up slowly, a hand coming to the side of one of her breasts “Do you wanna fuck my tits?” she asks, and Damien’s eyes widen for a second.

“You sure you’re not a slut?” he asks, and she breathes in slowly through her nose.

“Do you? Or not-”

“I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” he says. “Can I cum on them, too?”

Joan heaves a sigh, tempted to tell him not to push his luck. Instead, she says, “Yeah, sure.” Damien barks a laugh. 

Then she grabs the bottle of lube and rubs some onto her chest, and then they move to the side of the bed where he can stand and she can hold her tits together for him to slide his cock between them.

Joan uses her head to toss her hair back out of the way, a few strands stuck to her chest where she’d spread the lube up a bit far. Damien slides a hand through her hair and pulls it back for her. Joan smiles.

Damien leaves his hand in her hair, looking at her through his lashes. She looks well-fucked as she glances down at his cock, and then back up to meet his eyes again.

“Fuck,” Damien says.

He’s already so far gone that after a few more good thrusts, he cums again with a grunt, spilling himself on her chest. Joan shuts her eyes for a second and he sighs, content. Damien glances over at her bedside table to find her box of tissues, he grabs some and dabs at her chest.

Joan chuckles, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom again in a minute,” she says, and Damien just shrugs and tosses them in the wastebasket where he disposed of the second condom.

Before she can get up, though, Damien sits down and hooks his arm around her waist, pulling her down on the bed with him. Joan squirms a bit.

“What are you doing?”

“You don’t know what a footrub is, you’ve never even _heard_ of after sex snuggles- tell me Doctor, has your life always been this devoid of intimacy?”

“Fuck, Damien,” Joan says, but she covers a snort with a cough. “If I had feelings, you might have hurt them.”

Damien laughs and nuzzles her shoulder with his nose, his facial hair scratching against her skin. He presses a couple kisses into her flesh, and he hears her sigh, but it sounds more content than annoyed. He thinks, anyway.

A few minutes later, she insists on getting up.

“Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave,” he calls after her, and she gives a shout of laughter.

Damien makes himself more comfortable on her bed in her absence, sitting up against the headboard. He wishes he had a cigarette, although he’s trying to cut back.

Upon her return, Joan shakes her head lightly. She lies down on her side, her head near his legs. She slides one knee in front of her other, blocking his view of her crotch, and keeps one arm in front of her chest.

“Fuck, you’re sexy, Dr B,” he tells her. She fixes him with a genuinely curious look. “What?” he asks.

“You really think so?” Joan asks. Damien scoffs. “What?” she counters.

“Joan,” he says, eyes boring into hers. She shrugs slowly. “Oh come on. Obviously I think you’re sexy, we just fucked for, like, an hour.”

“I mean, that doesn’t necessarily mean you think I’m attractive. Just attractive _enough_ to stick your dick into,” she comments. Damien scoffs again.

“You really think of me like that?”

“Oh, please. You’re hardly the only man I’d accuse of holding that attitude. Not all men, of course, but many.”

Damien rolls his eyes, “Well I can honestly say I think you’re hot as fuck, Doc.”

“Gee, thanks,” she says, and he growls in the back of his throat.

“You’re impossible,” he says. “Whattaya want me to say? You’re sexy, you’re beautiful? I’d worship the ground you walk on if you asked?”

“Oh, please do _not_ ,” she says, and then she pushes herself up to sitting. “I just- I’d say I’m perfectly average. Sexy is pushing it.”

Damien chuckles lowly. “You think you could be average, Joan? You’re _are_ beautiful, by the way, I wasn’t just saying that. And you’re brilliant. You’re one of the only people who was ever a match against someone like me.”

Joan just sighs and smooths out the bedspread, “I mean, you _have_ caught me at a particularly tumultuous time, Damien. I just got fired a month or so ago and I’ve had a series of dud first dates. I know that has nothing to do with my physicality and I’m not saying I think I’m ugly. I just feel… average. Typical.”

Damien just purses his lips at her.

“Y’know. Plain, straight hair. Brown eyes- the most common color. My lips aren’t particularly plump, my body size is _perfectly_ middling- I have big tits, but I’m getting older so that just means they’re sagging,” Joan heaves a sigh. “Not exactly the stunning image of beauty, just a regular, average woman.”

“Shut up,” Damien says, and she clamps her mouth shut. “Sorry,” he winces, and she just rolls her eyes again. “You’re more than just a collection of random features strung together, Joan. Not that I can just convince you you’re beautiful. Well. Not with words, anyway, and not in a way that’d last,” he muses.

“I’d rather you didn’t regardless.”

“I know,” he waves a hand. Joan lies on her back and places her hands on her stomach. Damien moves to crawl over to her, and places his chin on her chest.

“You are _fucking_ clingy, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he says, “I cannot believe you’re surprised by that.”

“Hm. I’m not, really,” Joan says. Then she pauses, before pointedly saying, “I’m tired, Damien.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Damien asks, and she hums, considering it. “I really don’t think you do,” he adds.

“Damien,” Joan warns. He scoffs loudly.

“Let me stay,” he pleads, no ability involved.

“Okay, fine. Put the eyes away,” she says. He just smirks and kisses her chest a few times. “Let me get dressed.”

“Boo, why would you do that?”

Still, Joan wriggles out of his grasp and goes over to her dresser, pulling out some shorts and a tank top. “Because I don’t like to sleep naked. What if someone robs the house?”

“Then they have to face you bare-ass, it’s the perfect deterrent,” he argues.

“And what if there’s a fire?”

“Well. I’d just make the firefighters and onlookers forget what I was wearing, so…”

“See? Not all of us are so blessed,” Joan clicks her tongue as she pulls the drawstring on her shorts, climbing back into the bed.

“Do I need to get dressed too?” he asks, and she looks him up and down.

“You don’t have to,” she says, and he barks a laugh.

“Okay, feeling mildly objectified,” Damien says slowly, nodding. “I love it, Dr B.”

“You are… a piece of work,” she says.

“That is far from the wildest accusations you, or anyone, has thrown at me.” Joan just chuckles quietly.

A moment or two later, Damien gets up to go to the bathroom. He does end up tugging his boxers back on.

By the time he's about to get into bed, he notices Joan is half asleep, so he goes over to her side and turns off the light before sliding in next to her. He moves close, pressing up to her back with his arm slung over her middle.

Damien presses his nose to her hair as Joan snores lightly, kissing the back of her head as he whispers,

“G'night, Dr B.”

Finally, he shuts his eyes, and joins her in slumber.


	2. Chapter 2

“Seriously, get off,” Joan grunts as she pushes back against the man, but he overpowers her and keeps her pressed to the grimy brick of the wall she’s against.

It’s her real worst nightmare since she joined those stupid, godforsaken apps Sam and Chloe set her up with. A man that seems nice, but doesn’t know how to take _no_ for an answer.

Statistically, she would be much more likely to be raped by a man she knew rather than a stranger on a first date. Statistics are comprised of averages, though, and there’s obviously still a chance of it happening with a stranger.

“Get _off,_ ” she repeats, hissing as her head scrapes on the wall.

Perhaps _the_ classic stereotype of a bad situation- she agreed to a short walk, post dinner date, and got pulled into an alley under the guise of a shortcut to an open park.

Joan shuts her eyes and she honestly can’t believe what’s happening as her skirt is being tugged down her hips violently, one of her wrists now pressed against the wall by his hand, and the other side of her body pinned by his shoulders. She hears something snap and she bites her lip, hard.

To her surprise, though, she doesn’t feel him shove his hand down her skirt. Instead, she hears some scuffling and feels the hands on her wrist and hip being drawn away.

Joan opens her eyes to see her date being shoved away and pushed to the ground by a mystery person.

“The woman said _get off_ , punk.”

Joan’s eyes go wide. “Damien?” she asks. It’s a bit dark, but she’d recognize his voice anywhere.

“Wait- _Dr. B_?”

The date gets back up from the ground as the two of them stare at each other for a second. Then Joan clenches her teeth together and turns towards her date, who looks at her with hesitance.

As Damien reaches for her, Joan hauls back and socks her date in the face. “Whoa,” Damien says, his hands at landing at her hips to pull her skirt up.

Her date clutches his nose, as she shakes out her hand and tries not to portray the pain the punch caused. “You _bitch_.”

She just shoves him again and he trips, landing on his ass. She walks over, pressing the pad of her heeled shoe into his shoulder, “Hey? Lose my fucking number, hm?”

Damien makes a noise of amusement, trailing up behind her. “Forget her name, too, while you’re at it,” then he pauses, and adds, “And my face.”

The guy nods a little, and Joan lifts her foot and turns away from the man. “Let’s go,” she mutters to Damien, and then brushes past him.

“Hey,” Damien says, once they’re out of the alleyway. He walks just a step behind her as she rubs her arms up and down, “are you okay?”

“Are you serious?” she snaps.

“I… I mean obviously you’re not okay but- well, do you want to go to the police?”

“No,” Joan says. “I know I should, but I’d much rather go home and take a shower and,” she heaves a sigh, “I don’t really have faith a police report would even do anything, Damien.”

“Asked and answered,” Damien mutters, and he follows her to her place without another word.

Joan steps through the door and leaves it open for him, hanging up her jacket on the stand this time and dropping her purse next to the door. Damien steps in with her, and she takes a deep breath.

“Fuck online dating,” Joan says, and Damien just shakes his head. Her skirt is riding low because the top two buttons snapped when her date tried to yank it down.

“Yeah,” Damien says, shutting the door gently. Joan walks into her place and goes to the bathroom, and he makes himself useful by getting some water for her.

When Joan returns, she joins him on the couch and he passes her the glass. She mutters a thanks and takes a sip, then leans forward to grab the remote and turn on the TV.

“So… you don’t want to talk about what just happened?” Damien asks her, and she glances at him.

“Not particularly, no. There’s not really a lot to talk about, is there? I met a man from a stupid online dating app and I went on two whole dates with him. He seemed exceptionally nice and I was actually _going_ to bring him home so I don’t know why he-,” Joan breathes in sharply, then sighs, drinking her water. “I mean. I’m glad I didn’t get the chance to sleep with him willingly, now.”

Damien gently lays his arm on her shoulders gingerly. “You realize it’s not your fault, right?”

“Logically, yes,” she says, taking another sip of her water.

“ _Dr B_ ,” he insists, looking at her.

“I don’t know, Damien. I mean. At the very least, I shouldn’t be meeting up with strangers.”

“Come on,” he scoffs. “How many dates have you gone on from that app?”

Joan bites her lip and counts, “I think seven between the two apps.”

“And how many of them _assaulted_ you?”

“One.”

“Six of them didn’t, then. And, yeah, there are a lot of terrible people out there looking to take advantage, that’s on _them_ , Joan. Not you.”

“I guess,” she sighs, and finishes her water. “What were you even doing in that alleyway?”

“I was _gonna_ cut through on my way to pick up a pack of smokes, honestly, then I heard something of an altercation, so I intervened.”

“Thanks, by the way,” she mutters, and he waves his hand.

“Didn’t even realize it was you, Dr B.”

“I know,” she says. Joan settles against him and plays with the hem of her skirt at the knee. It’s fitted, plain, and black. She paired it with a blouse and a scarf, being late September as it is. 

Damien squeezes her shoulder and Joan leans her head against him.

“I should really give up on dating.”

“Why?” he takes the bait. Clearly she isn’t done talking.

“I haven’t made it past the second date with anybody. _You’re_ the only person I’ve slept with in the past however many months, and that wasn’t even in the context of dating.”

“Awh. Didn’t realize you wanted me to buy ya dinner first,” he says regretfully.

“I didn’t,” she says, and Damien places his free hand over his heart.

“Okay, ouch,” he says, and Joan rolls her eyes.

“If you were interested in dating me, Damien, I’m certain that would have come to light by now. I’m not _even_ looking for anything serious. I wanted to do that thing, y’know, where you see people and get to know them for a while and maybe hook up with a few of them a couple times. _Really_ date around, for once. I just don’t know if I’m cut out for it,” she muses.

“What makes you say that?”

“Back to the aforementioned, ‘I’ve only slept with one person I wasn’t even seeing, and I’ve never made it past the second date with anybody I’ve met’,” Joan tells him. “Maybe my standards are just too high.”

“Uh, you slept with _me_. Clearly your standards aren’t the problem.”

“Gee, give us _both_ some credit,” Joan snorts, and he lifts his hand to tousle her hair and chuckles.

“Nah, you’re right. Obviously I _am_ the high standard. And, really, how can you go back to any old man after I blew your mind?”

Joan rolls her eyes to the ceiling. “You’re incorrigible.”

“That is what my therapist told me.”

“Hey, I _never_ said-,”

“-Kidding, kidding.”

Joan fixes him with a serious look. “Progress is always possible, Damien,” Joan tells him. He pinches her and she scoffs at him. “Ouch?”

“Not sorry,” he says, and she sucks her breath in through her teeth.

“You’re the worst,” she mutters.

They quiet down for a minute and get distracted by the news on the television. Before long, Joan squirms in her spot next to him, shifting every few moments as if she’s uncomfortable.

“You good?”

Joan huffs. “Actually, I want to change my clothes,” she announces.

“Okay. Need help?” he asks, and she stares at him. “Okay! Tasteless joke, I admit,” he lifts his hands.

“I’ll be right back,” Joan says, and then she pushes off the couch and pads up the stairs.

Damien scrubs his hands over his face and then disappears into her downstairs half-bath for a minute, before refilling the glass of water and drinking it.

He’s just sitting back down on the couch when Joan lands at the bottom of the stairs, having changed into a fitted t-shirt and loose, short gym shorts in a pale grey. They’re the kind that curve up at the side of her thigh.

Out of respect for her altercation that evening, he diverts his gaze. They’re just _comfy_ clothing. She doesn’t need to know how sexy he thinks she looks.

“What?” she says when she sits down.

“Nothing. Planning to do some yoga, Doc?”

“No?” she says, putting her socked feet up on the coffee table. “These are what I wear for lounging around the house, I think you saw them last time.”

“Yeah, I was just… kidding,” he says.

“Oh. Haha,” she fakes a laugh, and then she hums. “Damien,” she says, a little sudden.

“Yees?”

“Can you go into the kitty-cornered cupboard in the kitchen and grab the bag of popcorn that’s there?”

“Uh, sure,” he says, and Joan pats his knee before he gets up and goes to do as she asks. For once, he feels out of his element.

“Thanks,” Joan says as she accepts the bag and opens it. He sits down again and she eats some of her popcorn, and then holds the bag out to him. He takes a couple out of politeness.

“Are you… feeling better?” Damien asks a few minutes later. She glances over at him.

“Oh, yeah?” she says, “I mean. It shook me up, it _sucked_ , but it could have been much worse if you hadn’t happened to be there. And,” Joan just shrugs, “I’m fine.”

“Right,” he says, and she takes another handful of popcorn. It’s then that it occurs to him he’s not sure if he’s seen her eat something before.

“Are _you_ okay?” Joan asks, and he furrows his brows.

“Why would I not be okay?”

“I mean, you could have any number of personal issues going on. You may have had a bad day. And, it’s normal to feel stress when you’ve witnessed a harrowing event- made worse that someone you care about was implicated in said event.”

“Joan,” he groans and shakes his head.

“What?”

“I’m fine. Just a little worried about you. You don’t have worry about _me_.”

“Well, it is my- I guess it’s not my _job_ , actually.”

“Technically it never was,” Damien nudges her with his shoulder, “I wasn’t an official patient.”

“Hm,” Joan says.

“By the way. What’re you up to, now, Doc?” he asks, shaking her knee for a second.

“Oh, I have a new job working at a crisis centre. It doesn’t deal with atypicals, but my skills are transferable enough, and my MA is in general clinical psychology.”

“So you _are_ Dr B?”

“Well, my doctorate _is_ specific to atypicals and they’re only orchestrated through the AM. It’s not like they _revoked_ my license or my degree, but I don’t think they’d be happy if I opened an independent practice, honestly? I don’t know if they’d revoke my license, but, I don’t want to take any chances. So… I mean, in the strictest sense, I still have a doctorate therefore I am still a doctor. I just- it feels like it doesn’t mean much if I’ve been barred from using it.”

“Hm. You should burn the place down.”

Joan starts to laugh and chokes on a piece of popcorn.

“Shit,” he says, and she claps her chest.

“You fucking asshole,” she laughs, and he presses his lips together to stop from laughing.

“It’s not _my_ fault you can’t eat and breath at the same time, oh brilliant doctorate-holder.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” she mutters, and he clicks his tongue.

“Uttering threats to a former-not-patient. Very unprofessional. Maybe they _should_ revoke your doctorate.”

“Hey, I worked hard for it,” she says, pouting, and he gives her a bewildered look.

“I’m joking,” he says seriously. She tilts her head back and cackles.

“Damien, I _know_. I’m fucking with you, too,” she shakes her head.

Damien just frowns.

“Awh. He can dish it but he can’t take it,” Joan coos, and he glares at her.

“I can take it just fine,” he snaps, and she perks a brow. He scoffs and looks away from her.

Joan clicks her tongue. “Kinky.”

Damien breathes in slowly through his nose, and shifts.

“Ooh, did I make you uncomfortable?” she asks, her voice dripping with a mocking concern.

“And what if you did?” Damien counters.

“Well, I’d apologize,” Joan shrugs. “If you were actually uncomfortable,” she pauses. “You’re not, are you?”

“No,” Damien assures her, gripping the top of her leg. Her skin is smooth, like she must have shaved recently. She _had_ been on a date, after all. And she basically told him she’d been planning to put out.

“Good,” Joan says quietly, and then she places her hand on top of his. He was _about_ to move it, but he doesn’t. She scratches her nails on the back of his hand, and Damien glances over at her face.

Joan is looking forward to the television again, seemingly interested in the weather report being shared. Her other arm is across her stomach, her fist under one of her boobs. With her hand on top of his, she traces shapes on the back of his hand, before she slowly starts to edge his hand to the inside of her bare thigh.

Damien lowers his eyes to their hands where she’s guiding it up the inside of her leg, moving her other leg just slightly so they’re parted. Damien feels his mouth go a little dry.

“Dr B?” he asks, voice low and a little raspy.

“Hmm?” she asks, turning towards him.

Damien leans in slowly, but lets her initiate the kiss.

He pushes his tongue into her mouth first, though, careful not to hit her teeth with his piercing. She groans against him as he slides his tongue over hers, and then sucks hers tongue into his mouth.

Damien grips her thigh with a strong hand and slides up to the edge of her shorts, skimming his fingers just below the edge as she moans against his mouth again.

“Joan,” Damien says, tilting his head to kiss below her ear. “What do you want?”

“Finger me,” she murmurs, voice quiet.

“You sure?” he asks, and he feels her nod. “Verbally, baby.”

“Yes,” Joan swallows. “If _you_ want, of course.”

“Mmmh, any time,” Damien says, placing his hand between her legs and pressing the heel of his hand against her firmly, hearing her breath hitch.

Damien kisses down her neck as he goes back to slowly edging his hand up and under her loose shorts, skimming his finger over her lacy panties, and then, under them.

“God,” he hears Joan hiss, and she shifts to open her legs wider for him.

“That’s it,” he murmurs in her ear, slowly brushing over her hair and then between her folds, taking a second to find her clit and rub circles around her slowly.

Joan is making soft noises this time. Damien nips at her jaw. She reaches out to hold his wrist, not pulling him away or pushing him towards her, but he pauses anyway.

“You good?”

“Mhm. Keep going,” she says, so Damien nods and skims his fingers up and down again, then circles his middle finger around her entrance. She’s wet, but perhaps not as _soaked_ as he had her the last time they fucked. So, he goes slowly, pushing his finger in and then pressing his thumb up against her clit. Joan moans again, soft and airy. It’s a beautiful, sexy little noise.

Damien pumps his finger slowly, his wrist held a little awkwardly with the way her shorts are riding up to accommodate his hand. If Joan notices, she doesn’t say it, her is head titled back as she nudges her hips forward a little bit. Damien smirks and rubs her clit with his thumb, deciding to make due with the angle so he doesn’t have to stop them.

When her breath is coming in short pants, Damien adds a second finger and crooks them, fucking her a little more vigorously because he knows she likes it on the hard side.

Damien sucks on her neck until her voice is rising and her nails are digging into the flesh of his wrist, feeling her muscles clench around his fingers as he presses up against her clit relentlessly.

Joan gasps his name as she comes and Damien couldn’t hope to wipe the smirk from his expression as he pulls back to look at her. He slowly pulls his hands from her shorts as she wriggles a little bit, and he kisses her for just a second before glancing down at his slick fingers.

Swallowing, Joan leans over to grab some tissues and hands them to him, and he accepts. Then, she adjust her shorts and settles into the couch. When Damien sits back next to her, she places a hand on the inside of his thigh.

“Do you want me to…?” Joan glances over at him, and he perks a brow.

Of course he _wants_ her to. But what he says is, “Nah. I’m fine, Joanie.”

She purses her lips slightly.

“What? I mean, if you want to that badly,” he says, lifting his hands.

“Don’t call me Joanie. It reminds me of my brother,” she says.

“Oh. Ew.”

“Mhmmm,” she says, and he snorts a little.

“You could’ve said something before. I know I’ve called you that at some point.”

Joan shrugs her shoulders, “You’re only now proving that you retain the things I say at all, let alone act on them, Damien.”

Damien presses his lips together. “Okay, fair. Still. Now more than ever I have a vested interest in _not_ being associated with your brother.”

“Mmhm,” Joan repeats, and then she picks up the remote and clicks through a couple channels.

There’s a movie just starting, so they watch it together. When it’s over, Damien starts heads out, but not before leaning over the couch and sticking his tongue in her mouth again.

She gets up with him and kisses him at the door once more, her hands on his jacket as he grips the doorknob.

“Hey,” Joan says. “Thanks again.”

“For fingering you?” he asks, and she tilts her head to the ceiling.

“For preventing an aggressive man from sticking his hand down my skirt?”

“Oh. Right. Think nothin’ of it, Dr B,” Damien says, giving her a little salute before he turns to walk down the short staircase.

“Good night, Damien,” Joan calls, and she locks her door after shutting it.


	3. Chapter 3

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Damien asks as he picks up the incoming call listed under his former not-therapist’s number. He’s called her a number of times, but he’s not sure if she’s ever called him before. If she has, it was just to implore he change around the schedule he set for them.

“My date canceled on me. Wanna come over?”

Jesus, no beating around the bush with this one. “You’re giving me a _booty call_?” he asks her, incredulous.

“What… do you mean by that?”

“You’re calling me so I’ll come over and fuck you,” he explains.

“Well, it’s not a _guarantee_. I was thinking we could watch a movie, maybe you could cook for me. We could hang out. As _friends_ , which you keep insisting we are.”

Damien bites back a laugh. “Not only are you calling me to dick you down, you want me to cook for you? How whipped do you think I am, woman?”

“So… is that a no? You said you _liked_ cooking, but we could order in,” Joan sounds a little bewildered. “Would it help if I told you what I’m wearing?”

Damien almost asks if she’s drunk, almost laughs her off the other end of the phone, but instead he clears his throat. “No. I’ll find out when I get there.”

And when he arrives, Joan is in her tiny shorts and an oversized crewneck sweater. She’s got subtle makeup on except for her red lips, and her hair in a casual ponytail. He wants to toss her onto the couch, rip them off her, and shove into her with wild abandon.

Instead, he just shrugs off his coat and steps out of his shoes as Joan presses her lips together and trails into the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?” she asks.

Damien snorts at her attempt at hospitality. “Sure. You got soda?”

Joan offers him the choice between sprite and coke, and he takes coke. She pours it into a glass while he starts to go through her cupboards.

“What are you doing?” she asks, bending over to put the bottle back into the fridge.

“You wanted me to cook for you,” he says, his eyes lingering on her ass until she stands back up. Then, he stops her from closing the fridge door so he can see what vegetables she has.

It’s not much, he finds. Half a head of lettuce with a bit of browning, a couple sad carrots and another half of a red bell pepper.

“Damn, bitch, you live like this?” he asks, and she tugs her sweater down around her legs. “Where even are your spices?”

“Most of them are here,” she says defensively, opening another cupboard and taking out a little spice holder. He glances through them. There’s garlic and onion powder, a generic curry spice, dried oregano, sweet paprika, and chili powder, as well as a couple almost-empty unlabeled bottles.

“Do you even have cumin? Thyme?” Damien asks, and she hums.

“One second,” Joan says, and she hoists herself up on the counter. Damien blinks as she carefully opens one of the other cupboards, the one that’s kitty-cornered, and then slowly moves to kneel. She grabs a plastic bag from the back of the cupboard and he puts his hands on her hips, breathing in through his nose.

Joan moves slowly to sit down again and hands him the bag. “There’s a couple other random things in here.”

Damien shakes his head and glances in the bag. There’s some cayenne, cloves, and nutmeg in half-full, self-labeled baggies. He places the bag to the side of her thigh.

As she starts to scoot forward a bit, and blocks her.

“What?” Joan asks, and he just smirks up at her, placing his hands on her knees. “Oh,” she says.

At his nonverbal insistence, Joan spreads her legs for him to come between them. Damien takes her jaw in his hand and kisses her. It’s slow to start, but he deepens it quickly as his other hand comes to her thigh and pulls her forward. She makes a noise in surprise against his lips, and he ducks his head down to kiss along her neck.

“Damien,” Joan says, twisting her hands in his hair. “Can you _please_ not cover my neck in bruises this time? You know I have a job to go to, now.”

“Hmmm,” Damien considers it. “How about I cover your collar in bruises, and you can wear high-neck shirts?”

Joan scoffs, and licks her lips. “Why not leave hickies somewhere even _more_ discreet?”

“Where?” Damien asks, pulling back. Joan glances down, and he does as well. “Thighs?” he perks a brow.

“I think that’s a good compromise,” she says diplomatically. Damien chuckles, kissing along her neck lightly for a moment before he presses her legs open wider and bends down to kiss her there instead.

Joan plays with his hair as he kisses bruises onto her thighs, having to try a little harder and suck on her skin more aggressively than he would on her neck. At times it almost hurts, but it still feels good, so Joan just tilts her head back to moan, the fingers of her free hand gripping the edge of her counter.

Then, he feels her move a little, and stands up to see her taking off his sweatshirt.

“It’s warm,” she explains, and he just smirks and places his hands around her waist, kissing the tops of her breasts. Joan sighs, her nails scratching down the back of his neck. Damien slides his hands around her and up to her bra, undoing the clasp.

Joan bites her lip as she lets him discard her bra on the floor.

“God, how did this happen?” she asks as he circles his tongue around her nipple.

“What, us sleeping together?” Damien sucks at the skin between her breasts.

“No, doing it in the kitchen.”

“No offense, but seems like it doesn’t get that much use otherwise, so what’s the difference?” Damien asks, and Joan grumbles as he flicks his tongue on her other nipple and winds his piercing around it a moment later.

“I guess,” she mutters. “It’s still probably… less than sanitary.”

“Technically we’re still at the stage of… fooling around, rather than actually fucking,” Damien says. “I was _hoping_ to eat you out, but we can stop.”

“Yeah, I had the feeling that’s where this was going,” Joan says, and she hums thoughtfully. “No, let’s keep going. What else is Lysol for?”

Damien smirks, “Attagirl.” He winks for good measure, and then bends his head to kiss along her breasts and then downwards.

“God,” Joan mumbles, and Damien stands up straight so he can help her out of her tiny shorts and plain black underwear before pushing apart her thighs again, lifting one leg over his shoulder and using his fingers to part the lips of her pussy, then going straight to sucking her clit.

“Fuck,” Joan gasps, high-pitched and sudden. He pushes his tongue up against her clit and pushes one finger into her cunt, finding her good and wet for him again.

Damien hums against her body and laps at her with his tongue, taking his finger out so he can push his tongue in her instead.

“Damien,” she gasps again, and he feels her grip the back of his head. Damien smirks for just a second and lets her manhandle his head, pressing his face into her cunt and licking her as sloppy as he can manage. “Fuck,” she whines again.

Damien brings his tongue back up to her clit and sucks, pumping two fingers inside her. Joan grips his hair and pushes her hips, and he swirls his piercing around her clit before sucking her in again.

At his pace, it doesn’t surprise him when she comes with another shout before too long. He slowly eases off her, milking the aftershocks of her orgasm for his own gratification as much as hers.

Joan is panting as he straightens his back and rolls his shoulders, still fully clothed while she’s ass naked there on her kitchen counter.

Part of him wants to dive straight back between her legs, but she closes her knees and takes in a deep breath. Damien just goes to the sink to wash his hands and grabs a piece of paper towel to wipe his mouth.

“So, you still hungry? I’ve got something you can eat, baby,” Damien purrs, and she gives him that deadpan, tired look

“I _am_ hungry, actually,” Joan says, finally sliding down from the counter. She glances around the floor, and then sighs. “I guess I should put on different clothes.”

“Actually, you should,” Damien says, and Joan perks a brow.

“Oh, I thought you were going to tell me to stay naked,” she says, and Damien smirks.

“I mean. I do want you to stay naked, but, we need to go to the store,” he tells her. “And my ability isn’t strong enough to keep people from looking at you the whole time. Not anymore, anyway.”

“Oh, come on,” Joan says. “You don’t have to cook for me, we can just order something in.”

“Oh, nuh-uh, you invited me over to cook for you _and_ fuck you. Can’t leave half-finished!”

“Damien,” she says.

“I _want_ to, Joan,” Damien says with a little smile. She picks up her bra and starts to rehook it.

“Seriously? This is what you’re making me do, after all of this? You want to _go to the store_?”

“Mhmm,” Damien says. “Go get dressed, baby. If I were a little meaner, I’d tell you I also want you to go commando on the way there, but… turns out a pretty nice guy,” he sighs the last part, as if he regrets it.

“Right,” Joan deadpans, and she huffs and trails through the living room and up the stairs. Damien goes back to poking around her kitchen, deciding what he can use from her pantry and what they need to buy. Or. “buy.”

Joan comes back downstairs in a pair of regular, boot-cut jeans and a nice red blouse, her hair pulled up into a much neater ponytail than what she’d been wearing earlier.

“There she is,” Damien says with a wink, and Joan just shakes her head.

“Alright. Are you ready to go?” she asks, and he nods his head. “Do you know what you need?”

Damien shakes his phone at her and she tilts her head slightly. He sighs.

“Notes app. Babe. C’mon.”

“Right,” Joan lifts her chin slowly and Damien scoffs at her.

Damien checks his face the mirror above her key hook, and they pull on their gear before settling into Joan’s car.

It's been a month since their first hookup, at least a few weeks since Damien caught a random man trying to put his hand down _his_ not-therapist’s skirt. Damien’s been over to her place one other time since then.

Damien knows they aren’t dating. He knows she’s under the impression he wouldn’t want to date her. In all honesty, he’s not even sure what his concept of dating is.

Part of him, and not an insignificant part, wants her all to himself. But she told him in no uncertain terms she wants to date around right now.

Damien is fine with that, because he doesn’t want to _want_ her into a relationship with him. Besides. maybe if he bides his time, they’re start wanting the same things naturally.

In the meantime, she’s starting to let him go to town on her cunt on the regular. Really, how much more can a man ask for?

“God, are you still this horny?” Joan asks, because apparently he’s thinking kind of loud about how much he wants her physically. Then her eyes go a little wide, “wait, we didn’t even-”

“What?” Damien asks.

“I never even got you off,” Joan says, blushing, and Damien furrows his brows.

“Uh, no, you didn’t. Awful rude by the way,” Damien tells her with a click of his tongue. Her face is burning ever hotter as she parks in the grocery store lot.

“I’m sorry,” she says, earnestly, and Damien groans.

“I’m fucking with you. You don’t have to blow me just because I went down on you. It’s not like- sex isn’t a game of who does what for whom how many times, Dr B. We’re not 16.”

“I guess. It _is_ rude, though- and it’s not that I didn’t want to. I was hungry, and you wanted to come here so badly,” she explains, opening the car door and standing up.

“Uh, yeah, I know. I’m the one that willed you here. Damn, Joan,” Damien joins her outside of the car and she grabs her canvas bags from the backseat.

“You’re calling me that a lot more lately,” Joan observes.

“It _is_ your name, Dr B,” Damien says, placing his arm around her shoulders as they walk into the store.

“I know. I just- I’m a little surprised. Not unpleasantly,” she adds. Damien sighs. “What’s on your note?”

He guides her through the aisles completely out of order, and after they have to double back for something twice she demands to reorganize their note so it’s more streamlined. Damien laughs at her, but lets her take his phone for a couple minutes and browses through the sugary cereals until she’s done.

They end near the produce.

“Seriously, how do you live? With two pathetic carrots in your drawer?” Damien asks her, and she gives him an offended look.

“A, I have frozen vegetables. And B, I use Blue Apron and Hello Fresh most weeks, which is both easy and convenient and doesn’t leave me with tons of leftovers,” Joan tells him.

“Oh,” he says, and she rolls her eyes.

“Mystery solved,” she says, turning to look at the fresh ginger. Damien pulls a face like he’s agreeing with her.

“That shit is expensive, though, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, a little. But it’s always enough for at least two meals from each dish, so it works out well for the whole week.” Joan shrugs. “I don’t have enough patience to meal plan by myself anymore.”

“Hm, interesting. You always seemed like a beacon of patience.”

“Really? I’d say I was frequently impatient with you,” Joan admits.

“Okay, but I was specifically trying to test your patience,” Damien says. “I meant, like, your general personality.”

“Hm,” Joan trails on and Damien chooses some green onion. “Why _were_ you always trying to test my patience?”

“Uh, you say that like I’ve stopped trying to test your patience at any time. I forced you to come here, remember? Did I really fuck your brains out that good, baby?”

“Damien,” she hisses, her face turning red as she gives him a scandalized look. He tilts his head back to cackle and she punches him in the arm.

“See? I still got it,” Damien insists. Joan takes in a deep breath, and he rubs his hand on her elbow. “Awh, hey, don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not,” she snaps, taking another deep breath. “You just.. Caught me off-guard. I _do_ forget how much you can surprise me, sometimes, though.”

“It’s _usually_ good surprises, right?”

“Weren’t you just admitting to liking torturing me by saying outlandish things?”

“I mean, the thing about me fucking you good isn’t really outlandish, that’s just true.”

“ _Damien_ ,” she hisses through her teeth and he covers his mouth to keep from laughing.

“Nobody is listening to us,” he insists, and Joan breathes in sharply.

Joan finds herself wanting to kiss him anyway, and she glares. “Damien.”

“What?”

“Stop making me want to kiss you.”

“Hey, I’m not… trying to,” he says, shaking his head. Joan just averts his gaze and picks out some new carrots. She feels his lips press to her cheek and fights the urge to smile.

“Damien,” she repeats.

“What? I’m not doing anything anymore. I swear.”

Joan straightens her back and thinks on it. He turns to evaluate some green apples, wanting to make sure he gets half-decent ones.

No, she’s fairly certain it’s just _her_ that wants to kiss him, now. As frustrating as it can be, she does enjoy their flirting. Joan clears her throat, and he looks over at her.

“Hm?” he says, and she just shakes her head. Before she can look away, though, he leans down to kiss her, a hand coming to her cheek. Joan kisses back, until he tries to deepen it.

“Okay, not making out with you in a supermarket. I’m not a teenager.”

“As if you’d have done this as a teenager.”

“I mean, maybe.”

“Dr B…”

“Okay, no. Still,” she says, and he leans to kiss her again, gently. She kisses him back.

“Nobody’ll look,” he murmurs against her lips.

“I know you’re not gonna be able to keep _everyone_ in here from looking our way.”

Damien just sighs and pecks her one more time before standing up.

“Good boy,” Joan coos, and he gives her a look. She smirks at him.

“You’re a demon,” he tells her, and she tilts her head back to laugh at him this time.

“Hey, Joan!” they hear, and Joan startles just a bit. She glances to the side.

“Oh, um, hi, Ag- er, Owen,” she nods at him. He smiles, polite.

“Hi,” Owen greets again, and then looks over at Damien. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Damien says, and he places his hand on Joan’s waist. She glances over at him. “Damien,” he says, and offers his free hand.

“Ah, Owen,” he says, and shakes Damien’s hand. “Joan, I just wanted to, uh, say hi. And see how you’re doing,” Owen says, glancing between the two of them.

Joan can _feel_ Damien wanting to speak for her, to say she’s doing just great. She presses her lips together. “I’m doing very well, Owen,” she says carefully, fighting Damien’s ability until she can feel it backing off. “I’ve got a new job.”

“Oh, wow. That’s really good to hear,” Owen says, and Joan nods.

“Yep, yep.” She glances at Damien.

“And, um,” Owen gestures to Damien, seemingly at a loss for words. He settles on, “you two look happy!”

“Yes, very happy,” Damien says, smiling down at Joan brightly as she laughs nervously.

“Right,” she says, and Owen tilts his head slightly. “No, we are,” she says, quickly, and Owen continues to fix her with that subtly concerned look of his. Then, he looks at Damien. Joan heaves a sigh. “It’s just _complicated_ , Owen, I’d rather not explain the intricacies of my current dating life in the middle of a supermarket, to my ex.”

“Ah,” Owen says, lifting his chin and nodding. “Right, yeah, of course.”

“Mmhm,” Joan says. “So, yeah, I am doing well. I am dating. I have a new job, I’ve been considering going back to school. I’m _fine_.”

“I’m glad to hear,” Owen says softly, and he nods once more. “Right. See you two around,” he says, and then he makes to leave. Joan lets out a little breath when he does, and then she starts to push their cart towards the self-checkout.

“Y’know,” Joan says nonchalantly as they scan their items, “I’m a little impressed at your restraint. I’m also finding it a bit curious that you’ve never seemed to mind that I’m _actively_ dating, and yet my ex raises your hackles more than I’ve ever seen?”

“Hey, maybe we can not talk about this at the grocery store?” Damien says, sour and bitter at once.

“Oh, but you can talk about how much you love railing me,” Joan snips and Damien’s eyes widen slightly. She just shrugs her shoulder once.

“Hey, I stopped _eventually_ ,” he says, and Joan clears her throat.

“I know. And it’s unfair of me to continue a topic that’s making you uncomfortable, even if you’ve done it to me before. So I won’t.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, and Joan just hums and continues to place their groceries in the canvas bags. “Ah, shit, we should have gone through the regular checkout,” Damien says as Joan is taking out her card.

“Why?”

“A machine isn’t going to want to give me a discount,” Damien says, and Joan rolls her eyes to the ceiling.

“Damien, I wouldn’t want that anyway.”

“Why? D’you know how much money the guy that owns this chain makes? It’s in the billions, Dr B.”

“Yes, but the worker could get in trouble for letting you walk out with stolen goods,” Joan insists, and Damien hums.

“Yeah, I guess.”

They take out their bags and load up her trunk, and then drive back to Joan’s place. At each stoplight, she twirls a piece of hair around her finger and never looks his way, deep in thought.

Once they’re inside, Damien places his hands around her waist and tips her back to kiss her, and Joan sighs into his mouth.

“Damien,” she says, “we have _perishable goods_.”

“Mmmh, whatever,” Damien murmurs as he kisses down her neck. “Dammit. I shouldn’t have agreed not to give you a hickey.”

“Wait, why?”

“We ran into your _ex,_ ” Damien says, and Joan huffs.

“Really?”

“Obviously,” he says, nipping at her skin.

“Well giving me a hickey _now_ isn’t going to solve anything. Besides. You _did_ give me hickies,” Joan says.

Then, she grabs his jaw to bring him into her line of sight. He blinks at her, eyes lidded, “Damien, my thighs are covered in your bruises. A place my ex is never going to see again, mind you. Now calm down, and go cook me dinner,” she says.

Damien’s eyes are blown wide. He swallows, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good boy,” Joan whispers again.

Damien shakes his hair out of his face and helps her carry their bags into the kitchen. He separates out the things he needs and she puts away things that require refrigeration, and then hops back up on the counter to watch him.

“Do you require assistance?” she asks. Damien pauses.

“Yeah,” he says, and she grabs a slice of carrot and sticks it into her mouth.

“Okay, what can I do?”

Damien places the knife down and leans over, kissing her deeply. She makes a little noise, and he brings his hand to the back of her neck and unbuttons her blouse, then pushes it up from the bottom.

“Damien?”

“Take off your shirt,” he says, and she fixes him with a confused little look.

She does it, despite her bewilderment. “Okay. How is this helping?”

“Boosts morale,” he says, and Joan makes a noise of amusement.

“You’re truly absurd, you know that?”

“Oh, yes, I’m well aware,” Damien says. He continues to work around her spot on the counter as she picks at the raw vegetables he’s chopping away at.

“Speaking of being absurd,” Damien starts, smirking over at her as he pushes around some of his sautéing onions, and then leaves them alone to continue cooking.

“Hmm?”

“I do regret my, ah, _subdued_ ability, for at least one reason.”

“Oh?” Joan asks, and Damien places his hands on her knees to kiss her once.

“Yeah,” he says, “I really do wish I could fuck you in public and _will_ people to just not notice it.”

“Damien!” Joan gasps, eyes wide.

“Its true,” he insists with a laugh, going back to the stove.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Joan snorts, her face red. “Even if you could guarantee nobody would look… I’m not sure I’d be brave enough for that.”

“Just a fun fantasy, then,” Damien shrugs, and Joan just hums thoughtfully.

Their chatter is idle for the next half hour to forty-five minutes later, until he serves the meal. Joan pours them some drinks and they sit to eat it at the table. She doesn’t bother putting her shirt back on.

“Does _this_ count as a date?” she asks, more than halfway through the meal. It sounds causal and curious, but he’s picked up on the fact she can turn that voice on at will no matter what her actual feelings are unless she’s in a truly high-stress situation. 

It still stops Damien in his tracks, and she lifts her glass to finish the wine she has. “Do you want it to?” he asks her.

“Do you?”

Damien regards her carefully. “I think you know the answer to that question, Dr B.”

“Hmm. Damien,” she starts, and he breathes in through his nose.

“What?”

“I meant it when I said I’m interested in _casual_ dating. I’m not looking for a relationship right now.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Okay. And, as for what’s going on between us. I’ve been really, uh… liking, um-”

“The sex?” he offers.

“Spending time with you,” Joan insists, which makes Damien pull a face of surprise. “C’mon. Obviously I have to like you a little, Damien.”

“I know, Dr. B.”

“Obviously, I like the sex as well,” she admits, and he nods.

Damien can feel how much she wants this conversation to end despite the pleasant, if guarded, look on her face. Honestly, he feels the same.

“Joan. I know this isn’t serious. I’m 100% cool with being in a friends-with-benefits situation, even if you’re dating other people. Hey, it’s not like I said _I_ wouldn’t see other people. I might, even.”

Joan nods, “Okay, good,” she says, and she picks up her fork again. “And… you don’t want to discuss why you were proverbially hissing and spitting at my ex?”

Damien rolls his eyes, “God, who knew you were such a drama queen, Joan? I just- I get a weird vibe from the guy.”

“That’s probably him reacting to _your_ weird vibe. On that, you should, in fact, be careful around him.”

“Uh, _why_?”

“He still works at the AM, Damien, and _you’re_ still unregistered with them. You know damn well they wouldn’t take kindly to that, to say the least. Just because I’ve always covered for you doesn’t mean any other agent will.”

“Right,” Damien nods. “Very cute, Doc. I love that you’re so concerned. But I’ll be just fine, hm? I don’t need you worrying for me.”

“Alright,” Joan lifts her hands.

What a first date, hm?

Joan stands up and scrapes their plates when she’s done, getting a bit of water sprayed on her stomach as she rinses the plates. He finishes his drink and comes up behind her. She almost thinks he’s going to offer to help out, but he just grips her hips and drops his lips to her neck, sucking on her skin gently.

Damien’s hands move to the front of her jeans and he unbuttons them, then unzips them as she tilts her head back against him. He sticks his hand down the front of her pants and it’s not until he’s working a finger against her clit he realizes she’s _not_ wearing any underwear.

“Fuck. You little slut,” he says against her ear, and he feels her giggling against his chest. “You don’t happen to keep any condoms in your barren kitchen, baby?”

“No I do not,” she groans as he keeps circling his finger around her clit. He feels her push against his hand, so he presses her close to the counter so he can grind his half-hard cock against her ass.

“Hm. Too bad,” he mumbles, and her breath hitches, “I’d love to bend you over this counter and fuck you right now.”

“Damien,” Joan breathes. “Tempting, but no,” she says, and he chuckles. She presses back against him again, and whines in the back of her throat. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

“Mmm. Don’t have to ask me twice,” he says, but he ends up spinning her around and slipping his tongue into her mouth.

Damien grabs her thigh and she lifts it to his hip so he can roll their bodies together.

“Damien,” she says, with a little more urgency. “Bedroom,” she repeats, and he groans quietly.

“Yes, yes,” he says, and he pulls back and takes her hand so they can trail up out of the kitchen. They pause halfway up the stairs to kiss for a few second, but Joan is insistent on getting up them in good time.

As they enter her bedroom, Joan goes over to the bedside table and plucks from her finally dwindling supply of condoms. She kneels on the bed as Damien pulls his shirt over his head and unbuckles his belt slowly, watching as she unhooks her bra again and tosses it towards the chair she has in her bedroom. Then, Joan reaches for him.

Damien smirks and leans forward to her, using one hand to keep pushing down his jeans, his other hand comes up between her legs and she gasps as he slides his fingers into her, two at once. She’s already slick, so she just gasps and rolls her hips in response, her hands steadying he on his shoulders. He can feel the plastic wrapper of the condom pressed against his shoulder as he manages to push his boxers down.

“Here,” he says, pulling his fingers from her and hearing her whine, sounding a little _brattier_ than usual. Maybe he’s imagining it, or maybe his attitude is rubbing off of her. Either way, he quirks his brow, and reaches to take the condom from her. “On your back.”

“Yes sir,” Joan says with a bit of humor to her voice. Maybe he _is_ rubbing off on her. Damien rolls the condom onto his cock as she moves back into the middle of the bed and grabs a pillow for her hips like last time.

Damien gets between her legs and presses one of her legs up and back, lining himself up and pushing into her with little hesitation.

Joan tilts her head back and a groan escapes her lips. Damien rocks into her slowly, letting her get used to the feeling, but she quickly starts rolling her hips up to meet his as well, so he assumes she’s doing okay.

“Fuck,” he groans, bending forward over Joan and kissing down her chest. He’s pretty tightly wound after the evening they had, but he doesn’t want it to end too quickly.

Joan slides her hands up into his hair and hooks her leg around his waist, thrusting her hips up and moaning his name.

“Fuck, Joan,” he breathes in her ear, and she arches her back.

“Damien,” Joan licks her lips, and then squeezes her leg around him. “Hey.”

Damien slows, just a bit. “Hm?”

“Let’s switch places,” she says, and he tilts his head, “I wanna be on top.”

Damien smiles at her, “Uh, okay. By all means, Dr B.”

With that, Damien slows to a stop and pulls out carefully so the condom stays in place. Joan rolls out of his way, and he takes her spot.

A moment later, Joan is straddling his lap and holding his cock so she can mount him, picking the pace back up where they left off.

“Fuck,” Damien groans, holding her around the waist so he can fuck up into her. Joan buries her face in his neck and leaves a trail of hot kisses as she bounces on his cock with enthusiasm. Damn. Maybe he should be cooking for her more often.

“Damien,” she mumbles, her lips against his skin.

Damien slides his hand up into her hair, and then pulls out her hair elastic. Joan laughs for a second, and then sits up, pushing him down by chest and tosses her head back to get her hair out of the face. It’s a nice move.

“Fuck, Dr B,” he laughs. She lifts one hand to shake her hair, grinding her body down against him.

Damien grips her hip a little harder and pulls her down on his cock, and then he moves his other hand to her front so he can rub her clit with his thumb.

“God,” Joan pants, placing her hands on his lower abdomen as she rides him fast and hard.

After a few minutes of her panting and crying out on top of her, Damien switches to his middle finger to play with her clit more insistently. “Come for me, baby,” he tells her, his voice low and demanding.

Joan bites down on her lip and arches her back, digging her nails into his sides as her hips stutter and she comes with a shout that’s becoming a little familiar, honestly.

She slows down and he’s still hard inside of her, gripping her hip because he’s _so_ close. Joan bends her head and looks at him with a dark gaze, and keeps rolling her body forward gently, despite probably being oversensitive.

“I did as you asked, baby, it’s your turn,” Joan says, and Damien’s breath hitches. “Come for me.”

Damien’s short nails bite into her skin as his face screws up with pleasure. He comes with a groan of his own. Then, she slowly climbs off of him, and his shoulders slump.

Damien throws his arm over his eyes, breathing in slowly as she lies beside him and hikes her leg over his waist.

“Fuck,” Damien murmurs, turning his head towards her. Their lips meet and he kisses her, lazy, and then he turns his whole body towards her. Their legs slot together, but he keeps one hand holding the condom so it doesn’t get messy. He knows she’d kill him if he did.

After a few moments of slow kissing, he scoots to the edge of the bed to do away with said condom, and she gets up to go use the bathroom, ever the responsible vagina-haver.

Damien sits with his back to her headboard, arms behind his head. When she returns, Joan climbs onto the bed with him and hums, lying on her side.

“Thanks for dinner, by the way,” Joan says, reaching out and placing a hand on his chest.

“You’re welcome. Guess I should really cook for you more often if it drives you this crazy,” Damien replies, lifting a hand to run his fingers through her hair.

“Oh fuck off,” Joan bites back, and he laughs loudly.

“Hey. Are you seriously considering going back to school?” he asks, and she looks up at him. “You never told me,” he says, casual.

“Oh. Yeah, maybe,” Joan shrugs.

“Don’t like your gig at the crisis centre?”

“It’s a little stressful,” she says carefully, and he hums.

“Yeah, I guess that adds up,” Damien laughs through his nose. “Where would you go to school?”

“It’d probably be online,” Joan says, moving a bit so she can place her cheek on his thigh, her hand coming up to his knee instead.

“Ah,” Damien says.

“Yeah. My MA is in clinical psych, so that’s already fairly applicable to a lot of roles, but I was thinking of perhaps looking into school psychology. Might be nice to work with kids,” she hums. “Or, teens.”

“You got baby fever?” Damien laughs, and Joan turns to bite him. He yelps. “Seriously?”

“I absolutely do not want children.”

“Fair enough. Didn’t have to bite me over it, though.”

Joan bites him again and he messes up her hair forcefully. She laughs, rolling on her back to look up at him and sigh.

“You’re awful cute with that well-fucked look on your face,” he says, and she rolls her eyes big.

“I can’t tell the difference between this smug look and the _normal_ smug look you wear every moment of every day,” Joan tells him.

“You’re also real mean when you’re not my not-therapist,” Damien retorts, cupping her cheek. 

“Mmmh,” she hums. “Wish you never ran into me in the bar?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely. This isn’t worth you occasionally saying something snippy to me. Not at all,” Damien tells her, completely insincere. Joan snorts.

“Poor unfortunate soul,” she coos, and then she moves to her side to sit up and start to get off the bed.

“Where’re you going?”

“Putting my clothes back on,” she says, and Damien groans in disappointment. “Shut up,” she tells him, and he just watches her as she gets dressed.

Joan also grabs another hair elastic and piles her hair into a bun, then stretches her arms above her head and yawns.

Damien gets up to go to the bathroom and, when he returns, Joan is sitting with reading glasses perched on her nose, under her covers and glancing down at a magazine in her lap.

He slides back into his boxers, and she shuts her magazine and folds her glasses. As soon as Damien slides in behind her, Joan flicks off the light on her nightstand and settles into bed.

“Night, Damien,” she says.

“G’night,” he murmurs, kissing her on the neck as he wraps his arm firmly around her middle.


	4. Chapter 4

“Mmh,” Joan groans as she blinks her eyes open. There’s something firm pressed against her back.

As she breathes in, she realizes it’s a man’s chest.

Damien.

Joan wiggles her hips slightly and feels his hand move on her abdomen. She sighs softly, and hears him make some similarly sleep noises.

She reaches her hand out to pluck the digital clock on her nightstand from it’s spot and peer at the numbers. It was a Friday that he came over, making it Saturday morning, around 9am. Her shift at the crisis centre is in the evening, which is her least favourite, although she’s also glad the centre is open late most nights. It should be.

Joan puts the clock back and feels Damien grip her hip a little harder, pressing against her. She rocks her hips back a little, and hears him groan into her ear. Curiously, she can’t tell if he’s awake or not.

“Morning, baby,” she hears a moment later, and feels his hand slide to the front of her stomach, holding her close to him.

“Hey,” Joan greets softly, wiggling against him because she can’t do much else with how he has her pinned.

Damien drops his lips to her neck and kisses her, leaving her sighing. “Do you… not have work?”

“Not until the evening,” she tells him, and he smirks against her skin and rocks against her again.

She can feel him getting hard, and, well, Joan has never _really_ been one for morning sex. It always seems impractical. Obviously Damien doesn’t have the same hangups.

Joan sucks air through her teeth. She could just tell him _no_. She doesn’t really want to though. And unless his ability has strengthened and become undiscernible to her overnight, she knows it’s not his fault. The only time she’s really not noticed it was in the _middle_ of sex when they’re both in the throes of passion or whatever.

With that, Joan opens the drawer to her bedside table and palms around, looking for the lube.

“Whatcha doing?” he asks, kissing her shoulder again. She manages to grasp the bottle with her fingers, and pulls it out.

“Getting something,” Joan says coyly.

“I can hear that. What’re you getting?” he asks, curious. She starts to push the blankets down around them.

“I don’t _adore_ morning sex,” she starts.

“Well, obviously, we don’t have to have it, Joan.”

“But if you _want_ , you can fuck my thighs,” Joan explains, pushing her shorts up a little bit.

“Ooh,” Damien says, and she can tell she’s got his interest even though she hasn’t seen his face yet this morning. “I mean. If you’re sure.”

“Mmh,” Joan says, holding the lube. “Are _you_ sure?”

“Yes.”

Joan squeezes the lube into her palm and then coats her inner thighs as she hears Damien shuffle behind her, the rustling of fabric from her sheets and his boxers. She holds her thighs together tightly and waits, until he’s pressing up together and pushing his hard cock through them.

Damien’s hand comes back around her middle, holding her tightly and securely as he thrusts against her. Joan shuts her eyes, biting down on her lip as he takes his pleasure in a way she doesn’t need to help with.

“If you don’t like morning sex, should I not touch you?” Damien asks, his lips brushing against her ear, and Joan just hums.

“I’m good like this,” she says. She’d really rather shower first.

Damien takes her word for it and keeps thrusting against her until he comes between her legs, coating her thighs. Joan breathes in sharply and tries to stop from thinking about him coming inside her instead.

Once he peels away from her back, Joan rolls over, and he’s kissing her in an instant. Joan makes a noise of surprise and keeps her lips tight, but kisses back a moment later. 

“Need to brush your teeth first, huh?” he asks and she just makes a face at him. Damien touches her thigh gently.

“I’m going to go shower,” she says, and Damien nuzzles her face before he legs her go.

Joan wonders, idly, if Damien will still be around when she gets out of the shower. She’s never really done the friends-with-benefits thing before, and Damien’s unpredictable at the best of times. She has no idea what to expect from this sort of situation.

In fact, Joan has basically always either been single, or dating someone monogamously, with very little experimentation. Which is why she wants to try dating around so badly.

As she told Damien, she’d say it hasn’t been going that well for her, though. She’s got another date before her shift, so she’s trying to remain optimistic. As long as Damien is gone long enough before _that_ , Joan will be in the clear.

And, well, at the very least, fucking around with Damien still isn’t being in a committed relationship, which is what she wants to avoid. For the time being, anyway.

Joan shuts off the shower and steps out, drying off. She pads back to her room to get dressed, and notices Damien’s clothing is gone.

Once she’s dressed and walking back down the stairs, though, it’s evident Damien is still there. There’s music playing from the kitchen. Not to mention, the pleasant smell of breakfast cooking.

“Morning, baby,” Damien greets from the stove as she walks over to him. She’s wearing a lacy tank top and cotton leggings, not wanting to get ready for the date just yet.

“I don’t know what you like in your coffee,” he adds, nodding to the pot that’s brewed.

“That’s fine,” Joan says. “Thanks,” she adds, and then goes to pour herself a cup.

The non-dairy creamer he put in the basket yesterday is sitting on the counter and she goes to add some regular cream to her coffee, and just a touch of sugar, which is also already sitting out. She sips it to make sure she has it right, as if she doesn’t mix a cup of coffee the same way every morning, then puts back both creams. 

“What are you making?” she asks, leaning over his shoulder.

“Fancy omelets,” Damien tells her. “Go sit.”

“Have I ever told you you’re _incredibly_ bossy?”

“Awh, you don’t need to. I’m actually _quite_ self-aware, Dr B.”

Joan breaks off a small piece of bacon that’s sitting on a plate and goes to sit at the table and watch him. “You see how that’s worse, right?”

“That I’m self-aware?”

“Yeah, and yet you still act the way you do,” Joan says, chewing on her bacon.

“Hey, I’ve been on _pretty_ good behaviour. Half-decent behaviour, at least,” Damien argues.

Joan just laughs in her nose and sips from her coffee until he delivers her a rolled omelet and toast, garnished with some green onion. Hers has cheese in it, and his is plain.

“Damn. I guess I should stop complaining about your attitude if you’re feeding me like this.”

“Yeah, you should,” Damien snips, and she cuts into the side of her omelet and hums pleasantly.

After breakfast, Joan rinses the dishes and Damien makes a couple of coy comments that lead to him kneeling on the floor, her leggings discarded on the ground, and her leg hoisted up on his shoulder again as she braces herself on the counter.

The taste of her slick mixed with coffee and his mouth is _interesting_ when he kisses her afterwards, to say the least. Joan can’t really go and complain after the breakfast he cooked her and the way he ate her out right afterwards, though.

Joan says goodbye to him as he leaves, kissing him once more before she shuts the door and goes to wash the dishes. Then, she receives a scheduled phone call from Sam. 

She _is_ glad Damien isn’t around for that.

Mark and Sam do know about the, uh, developments in her relationship with him. Not in any sort of detail, she wasn’t lying when she told Damien she does _not_ discuss her sex life with her friends. But, Sam, at least, knows they’re fucking, and Mark can probably infer it because he is, in fact, smarter than a doorknob.

They’re both, well, as supportive as they can be. Joan herself is the one who insinuated Damien is at least marginally dangerous, and not to be fully trusted.

Damien _did_ help them with some stuff to do with the AM about a year ago, when they were poking around places they all knew they shouldn’t have, before his ability was compromised.

Joan wouldn’t be surprised if her snooping doesn’t have to do with her having been let go recently.

And at that time, Damien didn’t leave the best impression on them then, either. He’s not the easiest to work with, and he’s frequently egocentric. Despite this, Mark actually doesn’t seem to mind the guy, but he can be almost too kind at times.

Regretfully, Chloe _also_ knows about the changes to her relationship with Damien, and in more detail than either of them really want her too. Being friends with someone who can see into your thoughts can be… unfortunate.

Chloe also trusts Damien the least, by far, but she at least trusts Joan to have a good head on her shoulders. 

Joan talks with Sam by video call, vaguely alludes to running into her ex at the supermarket, which means she then has to circle back and explain that she was with Damien at the time and ends up spilling about their cooking adventures, leaving out the details of all the sex they had, though it’s clearly between the lines and Sam sighs loudly.

“I mean, at least it sounds… adventurous,” Sam says, question in her voice.

“That is true,” Joan says. She and Owen had sex in the kitchen of her old place a _couple_ times, but at the rate they’ve been fucking, she’ll probably surpass that number next week with Damien.

“As long as you’re having fun. And staying safe,” Sam nods firmly.

“I have an IUD, and we always use protection,” Joan says, even though Sam didn’t _ask_.

“Good. Say, how is the IUD?” she asks, tilting her head, “I’ve been on the patch for a bit now, but, well- I still get worried about, what if I forget and change it out at the wrong time, y’know?”

“Mmh, it can be stressful,” Joan says, “and it _is_ riskier if the timing is messed up, just like with the pill. An IUD can be a pretty convenient option, though I have heard _some_ indication a menstrual cup can cause them to dislodge.”

“Wait, really?” Sam tilts her head.

“Yeah, I was looking into switching to the cup, but, when I was researching options I found some articles stating they’re associated with increased risk. Some sources also claim it could be attributed to the body expelling the IUD on it’s own, but… the research isn’t quite conclusive.”

“I really like my cup,” Sam says, sighing loudly. “Hm. Maybe I’ll go back to the drawing board, then.”

“It’s a good idea to ask your doctor directly about your options, too,” Joan says, and Sam smiles gently.

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Sam asks, and Joan snorts.

“I’ve never been that type of doctor, Sam.”

“I know. Just teasing,” Sam says, and their conversation drifts away from menstruation and sexual protection to some new board game she and Mark bought to try out.

After their conversation is over, Joan reads for a short while before she goes back upstairs to put on her makeup, and get changed into a skirt and a blouse, typical date-night attire.

Then, Joan meets up with a man she met offline, for once. He’d seen her at the same bookstore a couple times and asked her out, and Joan was so stunned she just said yes without a second thought. Sam told her it sounded equally exciting and terrifying to have something like that happen.

Honestly, the date goes really well. Probably her best in a long time.

Well, except for last night. It seemed she and Damien were in agreement it _was_ a date, and it was actually very fun, despite the ‘sulking over her ex’ bit.

At the end of her current date, the man hugs her, and they agree to text one another.

Joan then goes home with just enough time to get changed for her shift, and then heads there in her car.

She works through a stressful 5-hour shift. Saturday evening is never a great night to work at a crisis centre.

By the time Joan goes home, she’s tired, so she slips into her pyjamas and climbs into bed.

She doesn’t go to sleep right away, though. Instead, she twists towards the nightstand on the side of the bed that Damien’s slept on in the recent past, and opens the drawer to grab one of four cotton drawstring bags, color-coded.

It’s the navy blue one, and inside it is a pink, rounded bullet vibrator. She grabs batteries from a compartment in her little organizer, opens the bottom of the toy, and slides them in.

Idly, she thinks about maybe using this _with_ someone for a change. Her mind immediately goes to Damien. She rationalizes it only makes sense because she hasn’t slept with anybody else recently.

On that note, she almost can’t believe she’s still horny after the night she had last night, and, Jesus, the time she had this morning. Well. Whatever.

Joan doesn’t bother to take off her shorts, she just slips her hand and the vibrator down the front and turns it on, sighing.

She _allows_ her thoughts to wander to Damien because again, of course, he’s the one she’s been fucking lately. It still feels just a touch odd, her brain reminding her that he was her sort-of patient for so long. Is it really appropriate to be thinking of his head between her legs?

She insists, to herself, it _is_. They’re adults. He was never really her patient. He’s a surprisingly attentive lover. Though, lover is a weird word to ascribe to him.

God. Joan bites her lip and groans, running her vibrator over her clit insistently. Obviously, it feels good, but she’s pissed that she can’t get out of her own head.

So, with her free hand, she picks up her phone and finds some standard pornography to watch on a somewhat sketchy website. She _knows_ she should dedicate the time to looking into feminist, safe porn that she can pay for, but at the same time, she doesn’t really watch it often enough that it feels worth the extra work.

Joan bites her lip and finds a video filmed outdoors. She thinks about Damien's desire to fuck _her_ outdoors, and runs her vibrator down to her entrance and back up to her clit until she's coming with a quiet groan, dropping her phone on the bed.

Minutes later, Joan gets a text and she startles. When she picks it up, she honestly expects it to be Damien or an emergency from one of her friends. Her other friends, because he counts as a friend now. 

It’s neither. Turns out, it's the guy she went on a date with, thanking her for a wonderful time and asking if she'd like to get coffee Tuesday. Joan accepts, and they text for about five minutes before she excuses herself to go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS i read that thing about not using a menstrual cup with an IUD from a sex education blog but I wasn't able to find super definitive information on a quick google (like Joan says), so I left it at that


	5. Chapter 5

Two weeks later, Joan goes to get tested for STIs, and takes Sam with her so she can discuss birth control options with a sexual health nurse at the clinic.

While they’re there, Joan fills Sam in on the developments of her dating life.

Joan has _finally_ slept with one of her Casual Dating Partners, a man named Bruce that she met at the bookstore. She was going to get tested, anyway, but she feels extra need now. 

Bruce is very nice and their conversation is engaging. The sex is good, too, (admittedly a bit hard to compare to the type of sex she gets from Damien, who came over and laid her out on the desk in her home office the very next day, which Joan omits from the story entirely). 

And Joan has a first date with a different man, Chris, after her appointment at the clinic. Joan makes a promise to herself, and to Sam, that she won’t be having sex with anyone until the results get back, though.

Things are really looking up for her dating life, really.

Sam tells her it sounds a little exhausting, having all those surface level “getting to know you" conversations with so many people. Joan agrees it can be tiring, but insists it's fun enough to be worth it.

And, now that she’s actually taking to some people she likes, it _is_ fun.

Bruce invited her out to a club, which is happening on Friday. It’s not usually her scene, but there’s a live band playing, and Joan will dance if she's had a glass of wine. Bruce's friend group is going, and Joan was able to recruit Chloe to tag along with her, so, she’s not sure if it’s really a _date_ at this point. But it will be fun.

After they part ways at the clinic, the next time Joan sees Sam is when she arrives at Joan’s place on Friday evening with Chloe to help pick out a dress and catch up with the other women.

Joan finds herself up in a bright red dress that reaches her mid-thigh. It has a low-hanging neckline and some shimmer to it, as well as having chains for straps.

As she looks into her standing mirror, Joan is not exactly sure she's going to be able to leave the house in it. She puts on black pantyhose to make herself feel a little less exposed.

Sam and Chloe end up convincing her she can do it, after Joan has a glass of wine. She picks out a slim purse with a matching chain to bring. She isn’t planning on having sex, the results of her test have yet to come back, but she brings some condoms anyway. Never too careful.

After Mark picks Sam up, Joan and Chloe climb into a cab and arrive at the club. Chloe doesn’t love the crowds, but she likes one of the bands that’s playing, and she’s been gearing up for coming here all week. Joan also assures her she can leave at any time.

For the time being, Joan is just thankful to have a friend there with here.

“Hey,” Bruce greets her with a kiss and she returns it.

He buys her a drink and offers one to Chloe, who declines, then introduces his friends.

Joan knows she is going to forget their names, but they don’t spend a lot of time talking anyway. Once she and some others finish their drinks, they make their way closer to the stage.

They listen to the first band and Bruce puts his arm around her waist. Chloe stays near and bops to the music the whole time, swaying her arms. Joan smiles at her, and before long, Chloe pulls her to dance.

Bruce and a couple of his friends join them, and he puts his hands on her hips. Joan presses back to him, facing Chloe.

Clubs aren’t exactly a great place for conversation, so the next time they speak is when Joan offers to go get them new drinks before the first set ends. Bruce nods and thanks her, and Chloe offers to accompany her to the bar.

They wind up taking a detour to the bathroom first. They’re a series of single stalls, which is nice. The club _is_ higher end and pretty classy. No broken glass on the floor so far, at least, which both Joan and Chloe are thankful for.

When Chloe exits the bathroom, Joan holds her hand on the way up to the bar. On the way, Chloe yells in her ear,

“He’s cute, by the way!”

Joan just grins, then asks, “Are you having fun?”

“Yes!”

“Are you doing okay?”

“Yes,” Chloe assures her. Joan smiles a bit more gently.

“Good,” Joan says, and then she orders her drinks.

As they’re walking away from the bar, Chloe narrows her eyes. A moment later, Joan is face to face with Damien.

“Jesus,” Joan says, but the way his eyes light up when he recognizes her is admittedly sweet.

“Dr B!” Damien smiles. Then he glances at Chloe, and levels his voice, “Chloe.”

“Damien,” Chloe repeats in the same tone. Joan breathes in slowly.

“What are you doing here?” Joan asks, and Damien gives her a look.

“Uh, listening to music? I happen to be friends with someone in the first band,” Damien tells her, and Joan lifts her chin.

“Oh.”

“Speaking of. Gonna go say hi. Catch you later, Dr B?” he quirks a brow, and Joan just nods.

“See you, Damien,” Joan says, and she and Chloe turn to find Bruce and his friends.

Joan misses it entirely when Chloe turns back to glare at Damien, and when he sticks his tongue out at her, and when Chloe sticks hers out back.

“Are you still good?” Joan asks, and Chloe nods.

“I want to see the band that comes on after this one,” Chloe tells her. Joan nods back.

They meet up with Bruce and Joan apologizes for being gone so long. He tells her not to worry about it, and accepts the drink she brought him.

Joan finishes her drink before they start to really dance again. It’s more crowded now, because it’s a little later. Joan can almost feel Chloe getting tired, but she also knows Chloe is determined to stick it out at least until the band she wants to hear plays.

Joan twirls Chloe around before one of Bruce’s friends takes Chloe’s hand to dance and Bruce comes up to Joan again. Joan places her hands on Bruce’s shoulders to dance because Chloe honestly looks fine with the development.

Bruce kisses her a few times, and the first time Joan has to force herself not to think of the fact Damien is here. She insists to herself that doesn’t matter, and lets Bruce’s tongue into her mouth.

When the next song ends, Bruce offers to get them drinks again, and Joan nods. When she turns back to Chloe, Chloe is smiling wildly. Joan idly wonders if it’s exclusively because she’s kissing someone who _isn’t_ Damien, and Chloe gives her a look.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Chloe yells back, and then she gasps and grins. “My band is coming on!”

“That’s great,” Joan says, and they turn to face the stage.

Chloe yells along to all the songs in the set, not dancing so much as just hopping and clapping her hands. She’s _very_ cute, and Joan sticks by her side as she drinks half of her drink.

As soon as the band is done, though, Joan grips Chloe’s arm. “I need to go to the bathroom,” she says, and Chloe nods. They tell Bruce where they’re headed, and Chloe trails behind Joan.

They stop at the bar to get water afterwards, and Chloe admits, "I think I'm ready to go home now." She orders an Uber from the app before Joan hugs her tight.

“I’ll wait until your cab is here,” Joan says, and Chloe shakes her head.

“That’s okay, Joan. You should go back,” Chloe says. Joan frowns at her.

Then, she feels hands on her waist and she looks over her shoulder, assuming it’s a self-important man who is moving her out of the way to reach the bar.

She’s technically correct about the self-important man part.

Said man is also kissing her on the neck, and whispering, “Hi again, Dr B,” in her ear.

“God, you’re lucky I didn’t throw my drink on you on instinct!” Joan yells at him.

“You saw me,” Damien tells her, and Joan huffs.

Chloe looks displeased, so Joan pushes Damien’s face away from her.

“Anyway,” Chloe says, and then she holds her phone out to Joan. “My Uber is like 1 minute away, so I’m fine. I can walk out by myself, I’m okay,” she says, and Joan nods slowly.

“Alright, okay,” Joan hugs her again.

“Be safe,” Chloe mutters in her ear. She glares one last time at Damien before skipping away through the crowd.

“Well, we’re alone now,” Damien says, his lips landing on her neck again. Joan reaches back to grip his hair and sighs.

“Damien, we’re in a crowded bar. We’re the farthest thing from alone,” Joan tells him.

“We can change that,” Damien murmurs against her ear, and Joan presses her lips together. His hands are running over her hips and thighs, holding her close to his body.

“The bathrooms are single stall,” she mutters. “But,” Joan says, and she turns around in his arms. He kisses her, and she kisses back.

“But what?”

Joan should probably return to the date she was actively on, but… she’s already admitted to herself Damien is the better fuck between him, and obviously it’s not _all_ about that, but…

“I was- I _am_ waiting on STI results. I told you already, I’ve slept with someone new, so I wasn’t planning on having any sex again until I get the results.”

“Uh, yeah, but you slept with me _after_ him. What’s the difference? You either have something and already could have passed it to me, or don’t.”

Joan hums. “You have _a_ point, but each time reintroduces the risk.”

“Besides, _I_ just got results back yesterday that are negative.”

That makes Joan pause. “Really?”

“Yeah. Seems important to you. Clearly,” Damien shrugs, and Joan pulls him down to kiss him again.

“Fine. Bathroom, then,” Joan says, and Damien raises his brows.

“Seriously?”

“Mhm,” Joan says, pulling away from him and making her way through the crowd to the bathrooms.

Thankfully, there’s no line, and Joan pulls Damien into the first stall.

As soon as the door is locked, she’s pressed against it, and Damien’s hands are up and under her dress.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy. I can’t believe this dress,” Damien growls against her neck, pushing his leg between her knees.

Joan tilts her head back and gasps, grinding against him as he sucks on the sick of her neck.

“No bruises,” she reminds him, and she hears Damien mumble what she hopes is an agreement.

Joan is vaguely aware she’s now been gone suspiciously long from her date and she does feel bad about it. Bruce is perfectly nice.

Of course she told him, specifically, they weren’t exclusive and that she has other sexual partners.

Sleeping with one of them while on a date with another is still… well. It’s not a _nice_ thing to do.

“You seem distracted... Am I not entertaining enough for you, Dr B?” Damien asks her with amusement, kissing down the low neckline of her dress.

“Sorry,” Joan blushes.

“I’ll just have to give you something to pay attention to, hmm?”

“Damien,” she sighs, and Damien starts to peel down her tights, and then slips his hand between her legs and presses his fingers to over the black underwear she’s wearing.

“Need something?”

Joan swallows as he pushes her panties aside and toys with her clit. “I have condoms in my purse,” she sighs.

“Ooh, Miss I’m-not-planning-to-have-sex, hm? Oh, excuse me, _Dr._ I’m-not-planning-to-have sex.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Joan insists, as Damien slides a finger inside her, and then another. Joan pants.

“I’m not complaining,” Damien tells her, voice low and dark. He only fingers her for a few moments before he pulls back from her. “Go stand at the sink,” he tells her.

Joan nods, placing her purse on the counter and taking out a condom. She pulls off her underwear and rolls them as small as she can get them, stuffing them into her bag so they don't touch the ground. 

Then, Joan turns around and hands the condom to Damien, leaning against the counter. Damien kisses her as he unzips his slacks.

Damien bites her lip and holds her hips. He moves back, then forcefully turns her around. “Bend over, hands on the counter,” he tells her, and Joan nods slowly.

Joan leans forward over the sink, glancing at herself in the mirror, and then looking up to Damien’s reflection instead. His expression is one of lust and desire, and it makes her bite on her lip and shiver.

Damien rolls on the condom, and then pushes her dress up, his hand at the side of her lower back. Joan spreads her legs a little more as he lines up and presses his cock into her.

Joan drops her head and moans, staring at the sliver faucet as he rocks into her a few times, slowly. Joan shutters as she pushes her hips back at him, and his hand slides to her front to keep her pressed back to him as he starts to fuck her harder.

Joan’s breath comes in short pants and gasps, and she whines with his name on her tongue. She can feel him leaning over her and she braces her hands on the side of the counter , glancing up to the mirror for a second before gazing down to the sink again.

“Joan,” Damien says, his lips close to her ear. She just moans, soft.

Joan feels his hand come to her collar, moving slowly up to her neck. He knows she doesn’t like to be choked, just as she knows he does like to be choked. He’s not choking her, though- his hand comes up to her jaw to hold her chin instead. 

“Look up,” Damien murmurs, so she does, swallowing thickly.

Damien holds her head forward, not too forceful, but enough to keep her face directed at the mirror.

“See that, baby?” Damien asks, leaning over her, his chin pressed to the side of her forehead, now. He’s so much taller than Joan is. “How sexy you look? How gorgeous you are when I fuck you? God, Joan. You’re breathtaking,”

Joan's breath just hitches as his other hand plays with her clit, gentle compared to how he’s fucking her.

“Don’t look at me,” Damien tells her when her eyes flick to him in the mirror. “Look at how beautiful _you_ are, baby. I want you to remember how you look right now.”

Joan looks into her own eyes. She expects to think she looks silly, but… It’s actually pretty erotic, mesmerizing, watching herself get fucked- her lips hanging open and breathing out little moans and sighs as she's pushed forward against the sink from the force of his body.

“Damien,” Joan cries, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Keep looking, Joan,” he tells her. “Watch yourself as you come for me.”

Joan’s eyes fly open again and she does her best to follow his request, biting down on her lip hard before she screams his name. Thank god for how ear-splitting the music is in the club.

Damien follows her to climax very shortly after.

He slowly peels himself from her back, and then pulls out of her completely. She stands up, stretching with her hands on her lower back.

“Convenient thing about fucking in the bathroom- or the kitchen, for that matter,” Damien starts, flicking on the sink to wash his hands after he’s disposed of the condom, “there’s a sink right there.”

Joan takes her panties back out of her purse and slips then on, then frowns at her pantyhose on the floor next to the door. She really doesn’t want to put them on again now that they’ve touched the ground, so she rolls them up tightly and shoves them into her purse instead. Then, she checks her makeup, her mind completely buzzing on the high of what they just did.

“I have to say goodbye to the people I came to hang out with,” Joan says vaguely. “Meet me outside in 10?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Damien says, clearly confused. Joan pecks him on the cheek.

“We can go back to my place. If you want,” she nods.

“Yeah, definitely,” Damien nods, sounding more confident this time.

“Wait a minute to leave after I do. Also, order a cab.”

Then, Joan opens the door to the loud noises and heat of the club. She weaves in and out of the crowd until she spots one of Bruce’s friends, and, shortly after, him.

“Hey!” Bruce says, “thought I lost you completely.”

“Sorry, my friend Chloe wanted to go home,” Joan says, which isn’t entirely false. Bruce looks her up and down and smiles.

“Okay, not to be weird,” he starts, “weren’t you wearing tights last time I saw you?”

Joan blinks, and looks at her legs. “They got snagged on something and the left leg got tore completely.” Now that’s an outright lie. Oh well.

“Oh, sorry to hear,” Bruce says. “So, uh, d’you want another drink?”

“Um, actually, I think I’m gonna head home too. It’s-” Joan glances down at her dainty wristwatch, “-almost 1, which is really past my bedtime. Thanks so much for inviting me, though. I’m really glad I came.”

Joan accepts a hug and a kiss on the cheek from Bruce, and then weaves back out of the crowd and through the front doors.

She finds Damien smoking on the curb.

“Did you call a cab?”

“I know how to follow orders, Dr B,” Damien says, taking a drag from his cigarette. Joan reaches out for it when he lifts it away from his lips. “Didn’t know you smoked. That’s a bad habit, Doctor.”

“Only when I’ve been drinking,” Joan says, taking it from him and taking a drag. “This is the first time I’ve _seen_ you smoking.”

“Yeah. It’s a bad habit,” he repeats. “I try to only have a few a day, max.”

“Mmmh. Good idea,” Joan says, taking another puff and then handing it back to him.

Their cab arrives shortly after Damien finishes the smoke, and they climb into the back. Damien turns to kiss her neck and Joan sighs, tilting her head to allow him. The cab driver doesn’t look back at them.

Joan pays the driver. Standing outside her front door, she fishes out her keys as Damien kisses her neck.

They stumble inside once she gets the door open.

“Y’know, I’ve heard of an oral fixation, but you really have something about my _neck_ , hm?” she asks.

“You like it,” he tells her, voice deep and growly as he slides his hands under her dress again.

“Let me get upstairs, first,” she says with a laugh and Damien grumbles. She drops her purse near the door and steps up onto the stairs, walking up quickly with Damien at her heels.

When they get to the bedroom, he grabs her by the waist solely so he can toss her onto the bed and she yelps, laughing.

“Damien,” Joan gasps, sitting up. He’s on top of her a moment later, and they manage to pull her dress up and over her head to discard it on the floor.

Damien’s the one to go fetch the condom before he’s lying between her legs again and she’s pulling his hair and moaning loudly.

About twenty minutes later, Joan is returning from the bathroom in nothing but navy blue shorts with a lime green stripe up the sides.

She sighs, and sits on the bed. Damien’s in the spot he’s always in, against the headboard, scrolling through something on his phone.

“God. What have you done to me?” Joan asks as she lies on the bed, and Damien glances up at her.

“What? Because we’re sleeping together?” he asks, perking a brow.

“No, but sleeping together _in a public bathroom_ ,” Joan sighs dramatically. “You’ve corrupted me.”

Damien snorts and rolls his eyes. “I just unleashed your inner slut, she was always in there. But, maybe you’re right,” he says slowly. “A big bad monster like me? Innocent little Dr Bright had no chance.”

Joan scoffs, and then sits up. She hums, and regards him carefully. “You know I don’t think you’re a monster, right? I didn’t mean to imply that, I was being dramatic.”

Damien laughs, humorless. “I know you _do_ , Joan. I don’t care.”

“You _aren’t_ a monster,” Joan tells him. “There are no monsters, Damien. There are only people, people who make choices, some of which are good, some of which are bad, many of which are more complicated than that.”

“Oh, please, nobody really thinks with that much nuance,” Damien makes a noise of distaste.

“I do,” Joan insists. “You’re not a monster. You’re not even a bad person. You’re a man who _chooses_ to do things he knows are wrong a lot of the time, but, you’ve also done good things, and nice things. Nice things, by the way, are not the same as good or right things.”

“I know,” he mutters.

“Damien,” Joan says, and she crawls over to him, and settles into his lap. “Do I strike you as the type of person to be willing to entertain even the idea of fucking someone, allowing them to touch me and see me intimately, if I think they’re a horrible, irredeemable person? Would I allow myself to be vulnerable with someone like that?”

“No,” Damien mutters, his hands coming to rest on her thighs.

“Then clearly I don’t view you that way.”

“I know,” he says again, and she leans forward to kiss him, slowly. He kisses her back, his hands coming to her ass and gripping her.

“Now,” Joan says against his lips, “I’m tired. Your toothbrush is still in the bathroom from last time,” she says, and Damien laughs.

“Kay,” he says, and she gets off his lap and slides under the covers. He returns a few minutes later, and she turns off her lamp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love this chapter because i *FINALLY* finished a wip that includes a club bathroom sex scene, which I've written into at least two other fics that never saw the light of day. Third times the charm!


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, Joan gets out of bed a bit earlier than she wants to because she feels nauseous and also needs to pee _very_ badly.

She does end up getting sick, and she’s _sure_ it’s because she smoked last night, no matter how little. She doesn’t know why she does that when she’s drinking, it’s always a mistake.

Joan brushes her teeth and grumbles, going back to the bedroom with a glass of water, and drinking it slowly with some advil.

She manages to go back to sleep for a little while. When she wakes up the second time, it’s much later.

Joan finds she has a nice good morning text from Bruce. She’s honestly surprised, after the stunt she pulled last night, but she supposes he doesn’t know for sure she was busy fucking someone in a bathroom for the last half hour before she ditched the date entirely.

It’s probably a bit unbecoming for a 30+ year old and she _does_ feel guilty. Just. Perhaps not as guilty as she should.

“Mornin, baby,” Damien mumbles as she curls her knees. She’s sitting with her back to the headboard and tries to think of a nice thing to say back to Bruce out of politeness.

“Mmmh,” Joan says. She has a headache, but she doesn’t feel quite as nauseous. Damien slowly sits up and kisses her on the cheek, and down to the jaw as she places her phone in her lap.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Damien asks, glancing at her phone.

“I feel unwell. I shouldn’t have drank so much, or smoked half a cigarette,” she says, and Damien laughs.

“You’re getting old,” he kisses below her ear and she sighs.

“I’ve been old for the past decade,” she says, and he furrows his brows.

“Aren’t you, like, 32?” Damien asks her.

“Yes,” she says. “I’m just- I’ve always felt old for my age. Now I’m just where I should be,” she shrugs, and he nods.

“You’re a weirdo,” he tells her, and she frowns at him. “Said lovingly!” he insists.

Joan just tilts her head back and groans, picking up her phone again. She types out a quick ‘Thanks! I had a great time.’ And hits send.

“You know,” Joan starts slowly, “I was on a date last night.”

“What?” Damien asks, and she glances away from him, placing her phone on the nightstand.

“I was out with someone, at the club. The guy I slept with, actually.”

Joan can’t quite discern Damien’s expression for a moment, and then he grins, wide.

“Fuck. That’s amazing,” he laughs, and then he kisses the other side of her neck. “Mm, do you still have a blanket ban on morning sex by any chance, Dr B?”

Joan shifts slightly as he presses up against her, and she bites her lip, looking him up and down as she thinks. He leans forward to kiss her jaw and laugh.

“I cannot believe you were out on a date with someone else and let me fuck you in a bathroom. No wonder you were saying I’ve corrupted you,” Damien chuckles, kissing under her ear.

Joan laughs as well, face hot, “I. Well. Yeah, I did do that…”

“God, you’re beautiful,” he tells her, and she tilts her head back to laugh a little louder.

“Ugh. Here I was thinking you might be jealous, turns out I’m just stroking your ego?”

“Did you _want_ me to be jealous?” Damien asks, lifting his head to look her in the eyes.

“I mean, no,” Joan says, honest. “I’m really glad you’re okay with me seeing other people, actually. I thought it might be an issue for you.”

“Fair. I mean, I got you to leave a date to spend time with me without even trying, so, uh… I don’t see much reason to be jealous,” Damien says with a wink. “Clearly I’m fucking you better than any of them are.”

Joan makes a face and stays silent. 

“You don’t have to say it, I know it’s true.”

“I’ve only slept with one other person, _once_ ,” Joan replies slowly, “and you and I have been together a number of times. It’s also clear you’ve made a dedicated effort to get to know what I like, which… is nice.”

“Well, they do say I’m a people pleaser,” Damien says, and Joan hums.

“Who exactly, is, ‘they’, in this situation?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Joan laughs lightly, but she regards him carefully. “If you _were_ getting jealous, would you tell me? As in, verbally, up front?”

Damien thinks on it. “Uh.”

“Because, I’d appreciate if you did. It won’t upset me if you’re jealous, but I’d prefer you just _tell_ me, clearly and privately, rather than act on it,” Joan says gently. Damien purses his lips.

“Okay. I mean, I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask,” Joan says, and then she brings his face forward to kiss him chastely. “Now. I was thinking,” Joan traces a finger down Damien’s chest.

“Dangerous, Dr B.”

Joan chuckles, “I don’t want to have sex yet. But… maybe we can shower together- _or_ , we could take a bath.”

Damien quirks a brow. “Huh. Okay, I’m down. It’s been literal years since I’ve bathed with someone.”

Joan smiles, then pats his shoulder. “Okay, c’mon, let’s go.”

So, Damien gets up and Joan follows him into the bathroom. While he brushes his teeth, Joan starts to fill the tub with hot water.

It’s a pretty nice size considering her modest townhouse. But, she specifically wanted to ensure enough space to really stretch out in a bathtub, because warm baths are one of her favourite ways to treat herself and relax.

Joan slowly undresses and steps out of the bathroom for a few moments to grab her phone so she can put on some music. She also grabs some condoms, in case they need them afterwards.

As she finds a relaxing indie playlist, she tells Damien to get in the water, and then joins him a moment later.

Joan sighs as she gets into the water and settles between his legs, with her back to his chest. Damien drums his fingers on the side of the tub and hums along to the song that’s playing, his other hand coming to Joan’s thigh.

Joan grabs one of the washcloths she set out and washes herself down, and then slowly moves to face Damien with a little smile on her lips.

“What?” he asks, and she leans forward to kiss him.

“Let me wash your hair,” she says, and he gives her a look.

“Uh. Okay?” he says, and Joan reaches behind him to grab a little pitcher she keeps in the tub so she can rinse her hair with water from the tap. She fills it and makes Damien lean back to pour the water on his head, and then grabs the shampoo.

Damien shuts his eyes, not wanting to get the suds in his eyes as she gently massages the shampoo into his scalp for a minute or two. Then, Joan rinses his hair off with some clean water, and smiles.

Joan wets her own hair, then squeezes shampoo into her palm and starts to work it into her scalp as well. Damien watches her, and she looks back.

“You’re being uncharacteristically quiet,” Joan observes.

“Yeah, I’m just… thinking.”

“About?”

“You,” Damien says.

Joan fills up the pitcher with water to rinse her hair. “Oh. What about me?”

“I always thought I had you figured out. Turns out… you’re harder to pin down than expected, Dr B.”

“Now that’s just factually incorrect. You pin me down on a regular basis,” Joan says with a little smirk, and Damien chuckles.

“See? If you told me last year you’d be making a joke like that to _me_ , or anybody, really- I’d have laughed you out of the room.”

“Didn’t you say, some weeks ago, you thought I was a secret slut?”

“ _Hoped_ is more like it,” Damien snorts. “Not that I ever thought we’d be sleeping together.”

“Yeah, I suppose I also would have been surprised to find that out, if someone told me, a year ago. But,” Joan just shrugs.

“Yeah, I mean, I’m not complaining. Obviously,” Damien says, and then he leans forward to kiss her. Joan kisses him back, pressing close.

Before long, the water is starting to get a little chilly, though, so Joan steps out. Damien makes sure to wash up a little better and then follows her out, grabbing her by the hips as she’s drying her shoulders.

Joan chuckles, and Damien runs his hands down to her thighs, pulling her body back to him. “What were you saying about me pinning you down?”

“You seem to be a fan,” Joan says, as he walks her closer to the counter of the sink. She glances at their reflections in the mirror.

“So do you,” Damien murmurs, his lips against her skin as per usual.

Joan hums pleasantly, spreading her legs for him as he dips his hand between her legs, toying with her clit to the right side, finding the spot he knows is the most sensitive and teasing her there.

“Damien,” she groans, and she slides her hand to the condom.

“Did you like seeing yourself last night?” Damien asks, voice low, reaching forward to take the condom from her.

“It was… less embarrassing than I expected,” Joan answers honestly, and Damien laughs as he leans to kiss down her spine.

“You were gorgeous. Still are, obviously,” Damien kisses up to her ear and Joan lifts a hand to run through her still damp hair, looking at herself in the mirror.

Last night she was still mostly clothed and in no small amount of makeup, and the lighting wasn’t incredibly bright so as to provide a relaxing ambiance. She’d also been half drunk, not too far gone that she felt her consent would be compromised, but, still.

Now, she’s fully naked, and her face is bare. She feels, well… a little less enthused about the mirror this time, so she hangs her head as Damien slides his fingers inside her and she gasps.

“Shy, Dr B?” he asks, a note of humor in his voice.

“Maybe so,” she says, and Damien continues to kiss along her shoulders.

“Don’t be,” he says, and Joan chuckles.

“Ah, yes, I’m cured of all insecurity. Thanks so much,” Joan lifts her head to look at him in the mirror, his expression one of exasperated amusement.

“I _could_ make you see yourself the way I see you, so to speak,” he says, slow, nonchalant. It’s not a threat, it’s an offer. Joan shakes her head slowly.

“I’d rather experience it like this,” Joan says, biting her lip. Through their conversation, Damien’s been slowly but surely fingering her harder and it’s starting to become, well, _distracting_ if nothing else.

“Whatever you say,” Damien mutters, kissing her shoulder again. “You ready?”

“Mhmm. Yes,” she nods, so Damien leans back to stroke his cock a few times and roll on the condom. Joan glances at herself again, and then leans forward a bit more when Damien places his hand on her back.

Joan sighs softly as he thrusts into her, slow and smooth.

“I, for one, enjoy watching you watch yourself get fucked,” Damien says, holding onto her hips as he rocks forward.

“I mean, that’s not surprising,” Joan says, glancing at him in the mirror again. He’s smirking.

“In fact, I think we- well, _you_ should get a mirror above your bed,” Damien grins, and Joan laughs.

“Okay, that’s a bit much, Damien,” Joan tells him, looking down and gasping as he snaps his hips harder. She pushes back against him and then moans, lifting her head again.

It did feel awkward to start, but, looking back in the mirror she still doesn’t feel as embarrassed as she thought she would. 

One of the nice, or, interesting things about having sex with Damien is that Joan can always feel his desire to make her feel _good_. Of course, he’s been open about the fact _he_ wants to be the best fuck she’s getting right now, and that’s part of the reason he feels unthreatened by the random men she sees. Their relationship is unique, and he’s the one she chooses to have sex with more often than not.

And that’s not to say he’s using his ability to influence her to like the sex. He’s been clearly resisting willing her to do anything, outside of stupid things like making her take him to the grocery store or forcing her to let him choose the show they’re watching. But she can still feel it all the same, the awareness of his desire to please her.

It’s nice.

And to his credit, he _is_ the best fuck she’s had as of late- possibly ever, though it’s not as if she’s taken the time to seriously rank all of her past connections.

“Well, I think it’s a great idea,” Damien says, running one hand over her side and up to her tits. Joan presses her lips together as he skims his fingers over her nipple, his other hand gripping her hip.

Joan just laughs again as he smiles at her in the mirror, “And as we’ve established, you’re absurd.”

It’s also nice to be able to laugh during sex, although Joan can’t say she isn’t thankful when they pipe down and she can focus on the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of her at the pace they both enjoy.

Joan shuts her eyes as Damien brings his hand between her legs again, rubbing her clit.

Damien comes before she does, but he makes sure to get her off shortly after, and they slowly move away from the sink.

Joan debates telling him to leave before she goes to pee and wash up again, but she doesn’t bother. 

“Damn, your hair is so curly,” Joan says as she washes her hands and Damien steps back from the sink

“Yeah, it gets like that,” Damien says, and Joan hums. “I _could_ get it to stay like this for a while with, like, gel.. but sleeping always fucks it up anyway, so I don’t bother.”

“Hmm,” Joan says, running her fingers through it gently. “It looks nice.”

Damien smiles, a little bemused, and leans down to kiss her. “Thanks. So. Any requests for breakfast?”

“Chef’s choice,” Joan says, and then she turns to leave her bathroom so she can get dressed.

He follows her out and pulls on his clothing, “How about bacon and pancakes?”

“Sounds good to me.”

As they start to go downstairs, Joan sets out to start the coffee maker and Damien pulls out the ingredients he needs.

“By the way, it seems like you’re doing well in your _very_ subtle attempt to fuck me in every room in this house,” Joan says nonchalantly as she pulls out two mugs.

“Haven’t managed the laundry room yet,” Damien says. Joan snorts.

“My laundry room barely has room to move, I doubt that’s gonna happen.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Damien says. “Also, need to get the half-bath on this floor. Plus, I feel like we can count the dining room and kitchen as separate, so we gotta hit that too.”

“Mhmmm,” Joan just chuckles, and pulls the small sugar dish out of her cupboard as she waits for the coffee to brew. “Need help?”

“Sit down, you busybody,” Damien says, and Joan just sighs.

A minute or so later, Joan gets a text from Sam, and then an incoming call on Facebook messenger. She accepts it.

“Hey Sam!” Joan greets, hitting the video function.

“Hey! How did last night go?” Sam asks. Damien doesn’t try to hide his bark of laughter. Sam’s eyes widen a little and she mouths ‘Is that him?’

“Last night went well,” Joan says, and then she breathes out slowly. “Damien is over.”

“Oh,” Sam says. Damien chuckles under his breath this time.

“He’s making me pancakes,” Joan says. “But, um, yeah, the bands were really fun! I had a headache when I woke up and I may have gotten a tiny bit sick, but I am feeling much better.”

“Did you drink a lot?” Sam asks.

“More than I should have, but, I wasn’t ridiculously drunk. I’m just old,” Joan sighs, and leaves out the half-smoked cigarette.

“As long as you had fun.”

“I did. I think Chloe did as well, she got to see the band she wanted to, and we danced a lot.”

“Mmhmm…” Sam says. Joan glances up at Damien, and then back at Sam.

“And Bruce’s friends seemed nice, although I don’t remember any of their names. I didn’t really get to talk to them much, it was, well, obviously, pretty loud.”

“Yeah, that adds up. I can’t imagine the crowd,” Sam scrunches her nose.

“It was pretty packed by the time I left, which was around 1.”

“Oh, that’s late,” Sam says, and Joan laughs just a bit.

“It was,” Joan says. “Speaking of, my coffee has brewed. How was your evening?”

As Sam gives a short account of her chill night in with Mark, Joan stands up and brings her phone over to the counter to pour two cups, and then goes to pull out the cream and non-dairy creamer.

“How is that show? I’ve heard mixed reviews,” Joan asks, spooning a bit of sugar into her coffee and then pouring some cream as Sam sighs loudly and gives her impression of the first 4 episodes of the show they watched. Joan glances at the second cup and then at Damien, saying, “I don’t know how you take it.”

“No worries, baby,” Damien says, coming up to her side as Joan lifts her cup to taste it. Damien pours sugar and non-dairy creamer into his cup and stirs. Then, he kisses her on the cheek and Joan blushes a bit despite herself.

“Yeah, I’m not convinced I’d like it,” Joan says about the show Sam is talking about, and Sam shrugs. Joan picks up the creams to put away in the fridge, and then takes her coffee over to the dining table.

“Mark _does_ seem to like it, so we might watch a few more episodes. Really, I don’t know if it’s worth your time though.”

“I’ll probably skip it,” Joan says.

They continue chatting until Damien brings over the breakfast he made for them, and Joan says goodbye to Sam.

As soon as she hangs up, Joan gets a few texts from Sam that she tells herself she will check later, and eats her breakfast with Damien.


	7. Chapter 7

“Are you stalking me?”

“I mean. Not anymore,” Damien says, shoving his hands in his pockets as he smiles at Joan. There’s snow on the ground outside, but he didn’t bother to put on gloves before he left his place. He’s inside the Bookstore now, so it’s not so bad, but his hands are still a little chilly.

At the same time, a man comes around the corner of a shelf and says, to Joan, “Oh, hey, check this book out.” Damien perks a brow. 

“Ah, been meaning to ask- d’you celebrate Christmas, Dr B?”

Joan looks between Damien and the man, sending a glare to Damien.

The man, Bruce, tilts his head, and Damien just smiles.

“I do celebrate Christmas, yes,” Joan answers, and then she leans to look at the book.

“Sorry,” Bruce says, “um, hello.”

“Hey,” Damien says.

Joan purses her lips. “Damien. This is Bruce. Bruce, Damien.”

“Ahhh,” Damien says in recognition, his eyes glittering.

Damien gets the sense Joan _wants_ to ask him if he’s sure he’s not stalking her. Damien just smiles a little wider.

Instead, Joan just clears her throat. “This is my _friend_ Damien,” she explains to Bruce. “Curiously, we keep running into each other.”

Damien hums, and then thinks, “That _is_ curious. Must be serendipity, huh, Dr. B?”

“Ugh,” Joan says, and Bruce tilts his head.

“Dr B? Was he, um, a student of yours?” Bruce asks, polite.

Damien chuckles, “Oh, that would be something.”

“No,” Joan says slowly, “we met in the context of my private counselling. He just likes to call me doctor for some reason.”

“It suits you,” Damien shrugs. “Anyway, Dr B. Nice running into you, but I gotta get going. Enjoy your date,” he winks.

“Bye,” Joan says, and he moves past them with a low chuckle.

He _isn’t_ stalking her, but he can admit that seeing each other, what, four times unplanned in as many months is pretty extreme happenstance, even for the small city they live in.

Maybe his ability works on a cosmic level, because he just wants to see her.

Which is a _gross_ sentiment, but it’s true.

Damien glances at the small gifts section of the bookstore for a few minutes. He wants to get something for Joan, but what does one get their former-not-therapist turned fuckbuddy for the holidays?

He’s never been one for thoughtful, meaningful gifts. He can hope her expectations will be low, but, he still _wants_ to get her something she will actually like.

At the same time, Damien is tempted to get her sexy lingerie. Maybe he can get her a gag gift _and_ something sweet.

Damien shakes his head and heads out of the Bookstore. He doesn’t actually have anywhere he needs to be, so he just weaves in and out of giftshops and the like as he makes his way through the city’s small downtown area.

Eventually, he ducks into a sex shop that’s a couple streets away from the main drag and browses through the wares. He knows Joan will want him to actually pay for her gift.

Damien picks up a small massage oil candle. The shop sells bath stuff and he _does_ know she likes that shit, even if it’s sort of generic as a gift… he decides that if he’s going to get bath stuff, he can make a more informed decision at a later date.

Damien also does, in fact, get an entirely sheer, loose babydoll in a maroon color. Y’know. As a joke.

With a discreet black bag of non-stolen goods in hand, Damien heads back to his apartment.

There’s a cat crying at his door as he digs out his keys and he sighs with fake annoyance at her. She’s owned by the upstairs neighbor but has a habit of running out. Damien is _slightly_ worried something will happen to her one day, but it would be rude to steal someone’s cat even if they don’t seem to know how to keep her indoors properly.

“C’mon, Bonnie,” Damien says as the cat darts into his apartment ahead of him. He shuts the door behind him and flicks on the lamp on his way into the living room.

When he sits down, the cat jumps in his lap, and he sighs, petting her.

Damien roots around for the remote and turns on the television, navigating to the Netflix and finding some random documentary to put on.

He glances around his apartment, at the desk set up near his balcony door where he goes to smoke despite the place supposedly being non-smoking. He’s seen the superintendent smoke on her balcony too, so he’s not worried about that being a problem.

There’s a half-finished painting on a table-top easel, next to his woodburning supplies.

To the end table on his right, he has his one of his pocketknives and a handful of half-started whittling projects. Under his television he’s got a couple gaming systems and tons of games. His guitar is leaning against the couch and the ukulele on the floor.

Damien hums, petting the cat.

“Writing her a song would be a lot, huh, Bonnie?”

Bonnie purrs.

“Hmm. I mean, out of all the shit I have, whittling is a pretty safe bet, so long as she likes dumb trinkets,” Damien mutters, picking up his knife and humming. “Haven’t done it in a long while, though. I’d probably need to practice.”

Thus, Damien picks up a block of wood, whittling over the other couch cushion so he doesn’t get scraps of wood all over Bonnie. 

“I mean, I can probably whittle something for her… But what?”

Damien hums.

“I wonder if she’s a cat person or a dog person. I mean. Probably a dog person,” Damien says with a quiet chuckle. “And somehow, I still like her. Hope you don’t think it’s utter betrayal,” Damien glances at Bonnie. She makes a mrrrp noise at him.

Maybe he can whittle her a little dog. Or maybe he can do a cat anyway in an effort to convert her.

He doesn’t even know that she prefers dogs to cats for certain.

Damien whittles until he finishes the little owl he started probably back in September, around the time he started seeing Joan again.

He sighs, placing his knife and the little owl down again then picking up his phone, scrolling through Reddit and petting Bonnie with his free hand.

A couple hours later, Damien gets up to let Bonnie out of his apartment, and then eats leftovers in his fridge as he contemplates the idea of gifts.

A few days later, Damien ends up swinging by Joan’s place out of the blue because he was walking in the area and, well. He wants to see her. Usually wanting something is enough of a reason for him to just go do it. Hence the 500 barely-started hobby materials in his apartment in addition to the ones he does on a semi-regular basis. 

Damien knocks on her door and waits, then knocks once more. He wonders, idly, if Joan might be out of the house.

But, then the door is opened, and Joan is standing in a large grey t-shirt and a long skirt that might actually be a blanket.

“Hey,” Damien says, lifting his chin.

“Oh, it’s you,” Joan says, sighing in what sounds like it might be relief.

Damien steps through the threshold and Joan shuts the door.

“I’d ask what brings you here, but assume you just wanted to bother me?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Damien shrugs, then he glances her up and down again. “Is that my shirt?”

“Yes,” Joan says. Damien smirks and pulls her forward by the hips, kissing her on the jaw. Joan makes a soft noise of amusement, and moves to catch his lips instead. She doesn’t let the kiss last long, though, saying, “It was the first thing I could pull out of the dryer when I heard you knock.”

“Were you just lounging around naked?” Damien asks, hands on the blanket around her waist. “That’s sexy, Joan.”

“It’s not- it wasn’t like that,” Joan says, and Damien starts kissing down her neck. “I’m- I don’t want to, uh,” Joan starts, and Damien looks up at her, lifting his hands from her hips.

“Hm?”

“I’m on my period,” Joan confesses, “so I don’t want to get too far.”

Damien snorts. “I mean, if you’re sure. A little blood never hurt anything, though.”

Joan just pulls a face. “It _hurts_ though,” She shakes her head, and Damien just shrugs.

“Fine,” he says, “we won’t bang. Does that mean I can’t kiss you?”

“You may kiss me.”

Damien takes her jaw and does just that, and then Joan gasps.

“Fuck,” she says, and then she tears away from him.

“Where’s the fire?” Damien asks.

“In my oven,” Joan says, untying her blanket-skirt and running to her kitchen in a pair of black shorts underwear.

Damien follows her a little more slowly, a bit confused.

“I was cooking, and I managed to spill something all over my shirt,” Joan explains, grabbing an oven mitt and pulling out a tray with some charred pieces of what he assumes _was_ bread.

“So I took it off, but I didn’t have _time_ to get changed, because I had to do the next step, putting the garlic bread in the oven. Then you knocked, so I ran to get a shirt and then I got _distracted_ and,” Joan places the tray on her stovetop and sighs loudly, “this happened.” 

“Awh, I’m sorry,” Damien laughs, coming up behind her as she rubs her hands over her face.

“I suck at cooking,” Joan says, groaning loudly in the back of her throat.

“Hey, it was my fault. Do you have more bread?”

“No. It’s HelloFresh, they only send the amount you need,” Joan says glumly, poking at the charred toast.

“Toasted garlic bread is hard, and it’s not your fault.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not kidding! Garlic bread goes from nice and crunchy to _that_ in about five seconds flat. It’s hard to do even if you’re in the kitchen and paying attention,” Damien argues, and Joan just huffs at him. “Want me to go to the store and get something to replace it?”

“No,” Joan heaves another sigh, and then stirs the simmering sauce on her stovetop. It’s not ruined, so that is nice. “Just set the table, assuming you’re going to be joining me.”

“Only if I’m invited,” Damien says.

“Since when have you ever cared if you were invited?” Joan asks, and Damien makes a face like he’s considering her words.

“Point taken.”

“You’ve cooked for me enough times, I don’t mind you joining me for dinner. A call might be nice next time.”

“Noted,” Damien says, so he goes to get pasta dishes and cutlery and sets them out, while Joan disappears down the hall for a moment.

When she comes back, she’s got shorts on over the underwear, but she’s still in his shirt. She brings the pasta and sauce over to the plates on the table and serves them, then puts the pots back on the stove.

“So. How was your day before I ruined it?” Damien asks her, and she gives him a look.

“Just so you’re aware, you didn’t ruin my day,” Joan starts, serious and gentle, “but it was only okay, anyway. I just got home like 40 minutes ago from the crisis centre and I was planning on just hanging around, maybe watching television or something.”

“How mundane,” Damien says, and Joan nods. “Say. Are you more of a cat person, or a dog person?”

Joan blinks, and tilts her head. “I like both equally.”

“Oh, come on. You have to have a preference.”

“I don’t!” Joan says.

“If you were going to have one as a pet, which one would you get?”

Joan thinks. “Well. I suppose I would probably get a dog first if I had to choose between them, but I’d also just get _both_ if I were becoming a pet owner.”

“Huh,” Damien regards her carefully.

“Plenty of people do have both cats and dogs,” Joan points out.

“Yeah, you’re not wrong,” Damien admits.

“I take it you have a preference, though?”

“I’m a cat person,” Damien says, and Joan hums.

“I can see it. Does that mean you dislike dogs?”

“No, I like dogs too. Cats are just clearly superior, that’s all,” Damien says, and Joan laughs. “This is good, by the way,” Damien says.

“It’s just the meal kit,” Joan says, “but, hey, I managed to cook the pasta through without it getting mushy.”

“Are you really that bad of a cook?” Damien asks, and Joan shrugs.

“I may be elaborating. Maybe not. However, I’d prefer if you didn’t have to find out.”

“Why, because you don’t want to eat with me? Or you just want me to be the one cooking?”

Joan smirks, “The second one, clearly.”

Damien shakes his head. “All this time. Turns out you’re just using me.”

“For your dick and your cooking skills, yes,” Joan says in a sage voice, and Damien laughs.

“I mean, I guess I did that to myself.”

“Kind of, yeah,” Joan admits, and she drinks some water.

They finish eating and Damien offers to rinse the plates.

“I mean. I won’t stop you,” Joan says, and she goes to sit in the living room with some wine.

Damien joins her a few minutes later, smirking as he sits down next to her, “Too bad I didn’t know you were bleeding, I would’ve brought a peace offering in the form of chocolate.”

“What, you want an invite to my cycle-specific google calendar?” Joan asks, and Damien laughs.

“Do you have that?”

“No, I have a physical notebook, and also an app. And I don’t think I can share the app data- though, I suppose that might make sense for couples trying to conceive, so maybe it is possible.”

Damien snorts loudly, and Joan pulls out her phone, opening the app. “Thought you said you didn’t want kids?”

“I _don’t_ ,” Joan says, “but I am curious. Hmm. There is a Get Pregnant mode, but I don’t want to fuck around with the settings too much.”

“I don’t actually need to know your cycle, Joan.”

“Oh, I know,” Joan says, dropping her phone onto her lap. “Even if you could, I wouldn’t want or expect you to keep track of that information.”

“Okay,” Damien nods.

“Also- you don’t have to buy me chocolate because I’m on my period, that’s silly and honestly a tiny bit sexist. But. I also wouldn’t refuse it if you did.”

Damien laughs, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Joan places a hand on her abdomen and wines slightly. “Technically I think chocolate isn’t actually helpful, but. It’s nice to have.”

Damien places a hand on her shoulder and rubs her there. “Hey, at least we know you’re not pregnant.”

Joan scoffs in the back of her throat. “The risk should be pretty minimal, but yes. I’m sure you’re relieved as well.”

Damien laughs, “I mean, it wouldn’t be _my_ kid.”

“Condoms aren’t 100% effective,” Joan gives him a look. “Neither is my IUD.”

“I know that. I got the snip,” Damien tells her with a smirk, doing a little motion with his fingers. Joan tilts her head. “Like, when I was twenty.”

“Oh,” Joan says. “You were able to get that done that young?”

Damien gives her a look. “Yeah. I _wanted_ to.”

“Right,” Joan rolls her eyes, “I almost forgot.” Damien snorts.

“Yeah. Technically it’s reversible,” he squeezes her shoulder again, and Joan arches her back a bit before settling in closer to him, “but I haven’t regretted it yet.”

“I’ve thought of tubal litigation. It has more associated complication and risks than vasectomy, but it would be nice to have absolute certainty,” Joan hums, and Damien nods.

“It was definitely worth it for me.”

“Do you mind if I ask how you came to that decision, especially so young?” Joan asks, placing her wine glass down. “It was only, say, two years ago I decided for sure I wanted to remain childfree.”

“Nah, uh, there were a few reasons,” Damien says, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “First of all. Fucked up childhood doesn’t usually a great parent make. I mean, sure, plenty of people overcome that shit, but you know yourself… I got issues, Dr B.”

Joan nods to show she’s listening.

“Still haven’t found another person with my particular atypical ability. Wasn’t sure if I’d wanna pass something along, if that’s even how that works, I didn’t know,” Damien shrugs.

“Mhmmm.” 

“Plus,” Damien plays with the threads of a tear in his jeans, glances at her, and then at the television, “I was involved in sex work at that age. I can get out of paying for a lot of things, but, even my ability can’t get _everything_ for me, so I did that for money for, well- a long while.”

“Oh,” Joan says, and Damien glances over to her.

“Yeah. I mostly saw men, most of them weren’t trans, but I had a scare with one of my, uh… coworkers, I guess? She was also a friend. So I decided to remove any possibility of knocking someone up.”

“I see,” Joan says. “It sounds like the decision gave you peace of mind within your profession, and in life in general. That’s a good thing.”

“Yeah,” Damien breathes in, and Joan smiles softly at him, and then leans to kiss him on the cheek.

“I’m glad,” Joan says, and he turns to kiss her on the lips. Joan is the one to deepen it, but she does so gently.

“It-,” Damien speaks against her lips, and then pulls back enough to see her face, “it doesn’t bother you, hm?”

“The sex work?”

“Yeah.”

“No,” Joan says. “If you were still participating in it, I would like to know, but only because we’re sexually active with one another. I would get tested a bit more frequently if you had many other partners.”

“I’m not,” Damien chuckles. “It’s been a few years since I was really in the business. Gets tiring on the body, and after a couple of very well-to-do clients who wanted to be _generous_ with me, I was set up pretty well. For a modest living, at least. And, hey, I’m still doing fine.”

Joan smiles a little, “Right.”

Damien just winks and Joan kisses him again, and he shifts to grip her hip. Joan slides her tongue into his mouth and Damien groans quietly.

Joan slowly climbs into his lap. Damien skims his hand along her lower back and holds her to his body, gentle.

Joan twists her fingers in his hair and kisses down his jaw, humming.

“Thought sex was off the table, Dr B?”

“This isn’t sex,” Joan says, lifting her head and rolling her shoulders back.

“You’re a tease,” Damien accuses, and Joan gives him a look.

“You’ll live,” Joan says, pressing her lips to his again. Damien kisses her back, pushing his tongue into her mouth again a moment later as Joan rocks her hips forward softly.

“They _do_ say orgasms help with cramps, right?” Damien mutters against her lips with a low chuckle, and Joan whines, but it sounds a little uncomfortable. She pulls back to stretch from side to side, hands squeezing her sides. Damien keeps his hands on her hips.

“I mean. They do,” Joan admits, biting her lip. She glances Damien up and down. “I mean,” Joan shuffles to spread her legs a little, straddling one of his legs with both of her own, “I don’t want to have vaginal sex. We could, however, do this,” Joan says, grinding down on his lap gently.

“Only if you want,” Damien laughs, “I wasn’t trying to pressure, I’m just tormenting you.”

“I know,” Joan presses her teeth together for a second. “There’s this cruel thing called fate, though- just because I dislike having sex on my period doesn’t mean I don’t also get incredibly horny while it’s occurring.”

Damien tilts his head back to laugh again, placing one hand on her thigh and the other on the back of her hip. “I mean, if you can get off rutting against my leg you are _more_ than welcome, baby.”

Joan breathes in through her nose. “Maybe you can touch my clit, too. Nowhere else. If you want, obviously.”

“Joan,” Damien says quietly, “not a second goes by in my day that I don’t want to be fucking you in some way, shape, or form.”

Joan just gives him a look, “If that is really true, perhaps you should take up a hobby, Damien. At the moment, though, it suits me just fine.”

Damien snorts and thinks of the twelve hobbies he cycled through the other day trying to think of something to get her for Christmas. He did settle on the lingerie and candle, a wood carving, and some bath stuff that he hasn’t bought yet.

“Also. I think this might be a bit more comfortable on the bed,” Joan says, and Damien nods.

So, they go upstairs, leaving her television playing something random to the empty living room. Joan grabs something from her drawer and runs to the bathroom, and then comes back in wearing a different pair of underwear, high-cut briefs.

Damien is sitting on the bed, and Joan goes over to kiss him before moving towards the headboard and propping up a bunch of pillows. She instructs Damien to sit at the headboard, and then she kneels on her bed with a black t-shirt in her hand.

“Okay, so, I _shouldn’t_ bleed on you, but, I brought this over just in case,” Joan says, and Damien just rolls his eyes a little.

“I could just throw my jeans in your washing machine if I had to,” Damien points out, and Joan places the shirt on his leg anyway. “I have other clothes here, now.”

Joan opens her drawer and grabs the bottle of lube, and then settles in his lap with a deep breath.

“Hey,” Damien says, placing a hand on her lower back. “Are you sure about this?”

Joan nods. “Yes, it just- it feels a bit more intimate than the other things we’ve done, somehow.”

Damien smirks at her. “Awh. I’m honored, Dr B.”

Joan purses her lips, “Don’t make fun of me when I’m being vulnerable with you.”

“I’m not!” Damien insists. “It means a lot that you- I don’t know. You know I filter all genuine emotion through a layer of snark, but I’m serious, it’s… nice that you’ll do something with me even if it makes you feel vulnerable. Like watching yourself in the mirror,” he smiles, and Joan nods.

“Right,” she says, and she breathes in, then leans forward to kiss him. Damien kisses her back, holding her at the back of the hip as she slowly grinds against him again.

Damien kisses down her neck as he usually does, lingering as he goes, but doing his best not to suck _too hard_ on her skin. He wants to avoid leaving bruises, if only because he doesn’t want to piss her off. Damien lets her set the pace, his other hand on the top of her thigh, stroking her skin with his hand.

After a few moments of her rocking against him, Joan breathes out a sigh and bites her lip. “Damien,” she murmurs, and he looks up at her.

“Want me to touch you, now?”

Joan nods, and Damien grabs the lube to wet his fingers slightly before she leans back so he can get his hand between them and slip his fingers inside of her underwear to rub her clit.

Joan places her hands on his shoulders and shuts her eyes, continuing to grind against his leg as he circles her clit slow to start, and then faster as she pants and moans a little louder.

“That’s it, baby,” Damien murmurs, and Joan bites her lip. “You look so good. You’re so cute,” Damien smiles, and Joan drops her head for a moment, rocking her hips a little harder.

“Damien,” Joan whines, lifting her head as he presses to the side of her clit he knows is the most sensitive and rubs there.

“God, you’re breathtaking,” Damien tells her, and Joan bites down on her lip as he feels her legs shake a little.

Joan tenses, and then gasps, and Damien works her through her orgasm. When he removes his hand from her underwear, Joan scoots a little closer to him wraps her arms around him. Damien hugs her back.

A few moments later, Joan moves to flop onto her back, lying with her feet on his thighs. “You know. You never give me foot rubs anymore,” she says, and Damien chuckles.

“You never ask for them.”

“I never asked the first time,” Joan points out, and Damien takes her foot in his hand.

“I assume this isn’t good as massage oil?” Damien asks, picking up the lube with his other hand.

“Probably not. It doesn’t disappear too quickly, but it is water-based,” Joan says, and then she tugs her foot away. “One second,” she says.

Damien watches as she goes to the other nightstand, peering into it as she looks through a little organizer.

“Ooh. What’s in those bags?” Damien asks, and Joan glances up at him.

“Sex toys,” she says, and Damien raises his brows.

Joan picks out a deep purple bag and tosses it at him. Damien pulls open the drawstring and pulls out a nicely sized dildo with a flared base, realistically shaped but in a pastel pink color. “Oooh.”

“I know I do have massage oil,” Joan mutters, still rooting around the drawer.

“Hey, do you happen to have a harness?”

“A harness?”

“A strap-on harness,” Damien elaborates.

“Hmm, no. I’ve never really had a need. Why?” Joan asks, and then she smiles at the bottle of oil in the back of the drawer organizer and grabs it.

Damien snorts at her. “I mean. Might be nice for you to, uh. Top me.”

“I’ve been on top befo.. aah,” Joan say, standing up straight as Damien wiggles the dildo she handed him at her. She grabs it from him and puts it back in the bag. “I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed, but I have never done anything like that. You’d have to teach me.”

“Sounds like fun to me,” Damien smiles.

“And you’d have to agree not to give me a hard time when I’m inevitably bad at it,” she says, and Damien just coos and leans over to kiss her.

“I’m sure you’d do fine, especially under my gentle guiding hand,” he says, and Joan just hums. “Did you find the oil?”

“Yes,” Joan says, handing it to him.

“Great. Take off your- _my_ shirt.” 

“For a footrub?” Joan asks, but he can see her little smirk.

“You complained about your lack of massages, so I thought I’d do your whole back to make up for it,” Damien tells her, looking her up and down. “Lie down for me.”

“Y’know, I’m beginning to think you’re actually too good to me,” Joan says, but she takes off her top and lies down as he instructed

“That’s impossible, Dr B.”

“Hmmm,” Joan says, moving a bit to arrange some pillows under her so she can be a bit more comfortable.

Then, Damien crawls on top of her, and starts to massage her back, going slowly as he gently works her muscles with his hands, moving down to her lower back and sides.

A few minutes into the massage, Joan lets out a contented sigh. “You’re good at this.”

“I took classes back when I was, y’know, working,” Damien says with a chuckle.

“How the turn tables,” Joan hums, “now you’re _my_ therapist.”

Damien laughs a little louder, “Hey, I’m not _accredited._ I never bothered taking the exam, just the courses. Besides, you really wanna turn our relationship back into a professional one?”

“Hm. Guess I don’t want to have to start paying you. You _could_ be a professional, though,” Joan breathes through her nose and Damien shakes his head, inching up her back slowly, one area at a time.

“I suppose,” he says, “if I was low on money it could be a good part-time gig if I wanted to go through the effort. You’re not bothered by the thought of my hands all over someone else’s body?” Damien coos, voice teasing and a little sarcastic.

“Well I’m not particularly prone to jealously, and who am I to deprive the world of the genuine talent you seem to possess,” Joan says, laughing through her nose. “Besides, it could also be a good fit with your ability if you can help newer clients relax.”

“Dr B, you’d suggest I use my ability on unwitting, innocent massage clients?” Damien asks, gasping in a fake manner.

“It’s not as if _any_ instance of you using your ability is a bad thing. I don’t imagine there’s many people who go to a massage therapist without the intention to relax, so, it wouldn’t be untoward to help that along.”

“In your professional opinion?”

“I’m not in that profession anymore, and we are discussing more ethical implications than therapeutic ones. Clearly there are overlaps, of course,” Joan hums, and Damien thinks.

“Fair enough, Doc. Speaking of relaxing,” Damien leans down to kiss at the back of her neck, “how about we focus on the task at hand, hm?”

“Good idea,” Joan hums, and Damien kisses her once more before resuming the massage.

They quiet down as he continues methodically working his hands over her, to her frequent sighs in contentment.

About a half hour later, Damien finishes up the massage and he tells her to wait for a moment before returning with a towel to wipe down the oil from her back, which she thanks him for and slowly gets up.

They settle back onto the bed, and Joan snuggles close to Damien to kiss him, sliding her tongue in his mouth and splaying her fingers on his cheek.

“Let me blow you,” Joan murmurs against his lips, and Damien breathes in a laugh.

“If you want,” Damien says, and Joan nods before kissing him again.

Joan slowly runs her hands over his body and slips her hand under his shirt, feeling up his sides as she bites gently on his lower lip and then ducks her head to kiss down his neck.

Damien sighs, tilting his neck to give her more space. Joan sucks on his skin, but not enough to leave a mark- although something tells her he wouldn’t give a shit if she gave him a hickey.

Joan places her hand on his thigh and then slides up press gently between his legs, smiling against his neck as she slowly moves away from him so she can unbuckle his belt.

“How do you want me, baby?” Damien asks, and Joan hums in thought.

“I can kneel at the edge of the bed,” Joan says, and Damien tilts his head.

“Will you be comfortable enough?” Damien asks, squeezing her waist gently. Joan nods.

“I should be good with a couple pillows. I’m feeling fine now,” Joan says softly. So, they move to the edge of the bed, place some pillows on the floor, and Damien shucks off his pants and underwear as Joan reaches for the lube. She’s soon going to need to buy a new bottle.

Joan squeezes some into her palm and strokes Damien’s cock to full hardness, and then comes up closer to him to lick up the side of his cock.

Damien breathes in as she swirls her tongue around him and bobs down. Damien slowly cards his fingers through her hair as she swallows around him and takes him in bit by bit.

Joan glances up at him for a second, and then shuts her eyes to focus on her task, one hand on the inside of his thigh and the other holding the base of his cock as she slides her mouth back and purses her lips around the head before swirling her tongue once more.

“Fuck,” Damien murmurs, and she takes him back into her mouth and sucks, humming around his cock.

As Joan relaxes into it little further, Damien tightens his grips on her hair, and she makes her jaw a little more slack to let him pull her head forward a little more. Joan shuts her eyes and bobs back again.

Damien grips the bedsheets with his other hand, never taking his eyes off her as she sucks his cock and allows him to push her forward gently with his hand. He works his way up to being just a bit rougher with her, but not past her limits.

Joan hums around him again and sucks harder as she glances back up at him, pulling back once to take a deep breath and stroke him a few times with her hand. “Feel free to come in my mouth,” she says, and Damien presses his brows up.

“Okay. I’ll try to warn you,” he winks, and she nods, then closes her lips around his cock again and shuts her eyes.

Damien bites his lip and tugs Joan by the hair again, hearing her make a noise around him again as she sucks, hard. He gasps as she pulls back to swirl her tongue fast and then take him back in, and he pushes her forward just a _bit_ as she sucks.

“Fuck, Joan,” he mutters, and breathes out. “I’m close,” he tells her, and she just makes a noise around him.

She said he could, so he grips her hair tight and comes in her mouth, and she swallows it down and releases his cock with absurd little noise.

“God,” Damien pants, and Joan slowly gets off of her knees and goes to sit next to him. He turns towards her to kiss him, and she kisses him back with a cute little noise.

“Are you staying over?” Joan asks, and Damien glances from her lips to her eyes.

“Want me to?”

“Sure, why not?” Joan says, and so they get up and get comfortable to snuggle in bed for the rest of the evening.


	8. Chapter 8

“Hey baby, what’s up?”

“Not much, just got off the phone with my brother. I have to go deliver some gifts to some of my other former clients,” Joan replies from the other end of the phone. Damien scratches Bonnie’s head on his lap.

“Damn, you’re on the ball. It’s like a week before Christmas, I haven’t even started wrapping yet,” Damien says. It’s a lie, but a little one.

“Seriously? I got mine done over the weekend. It’s going to be busy the next few days at the centre,” Joan says, breathing in sharply.

“Yeesh, I can imagine. Christmas can be pretty rough for some people.”

“Mhmm,” Joan hums. “But, I get off at five on Christmas eve, and don’t work until the evening on Christmas, which works out perfectly for me. Say… how are you planning to spend your holiday?”

“Drunk, probably,” Damien says, and he can almost hear the look of concern on Joan’s face when she says his name. “Kidding! I dunno, really, I’ll probably see some friends on the 23rd.”

“Okay,” Joan says slowly. “In that case, would you like to come over for a bit on the 24th? I have plans to go over to Sam and Mark’s early in the morning on the 25th, but, you can come open the gift I got for you.”

“Yeah, uh, that sounds great,” Damien says, clearing his throat to try to get rid of the surprise. “Won’t you be seeing your parents?”

“Mh… no, they don’t tend to come around for the holidays. Or.. for any reason. They sent a card down already.”

“Oh,” Damien says. “I see. Anyway, uh, I’d love to come over, yeah. I can, um, bring some food over if you like? And the gifts I got you, of course.”

“That sounds lovely, Damien,” Joan says. “I probably won’t see you before then, but, I look forward to Christmas eve.”

“Yeah,” Damien smiles. “Well. See you then, Dr B.”

“See you,” Joan says quietly. “Bye,” she adds a moment later.

“Bye,” Damien says. They both chuckle, and say goodbye one more time, before Joan hangs up.

Damien drops his phone, and picks Bonnie up in his hands. “She wants me to come over on Christmas Eve. That seems like a pretty big step, right?”

Bonnie mrrps loudly and reaches her paw out to his shoulder, and he tucks her under his chin. She knocks her head up against his face and Damien presses his lips to the top of her furry head.

Damien pets Bonnie until she wriggles away from him and walks along the top of his couch to sit on the armrest. Damien gets up and goes to his Christmas tree to look at the couple of bags there.

There are a few gifts from his friends, and some for his friends that he also needs to deliver. He’ll probably do that in the afternoon on Christmas eve, before he heads over to Joan’s.

For the better part of the rest of the week, Damien is filled with a giddy anticipation. He’s excited to give Joan her gift and he really, _really_ hopes she likes it.

On Christmas Eve day, Damien cooks up a nice soup that he thinks Joan will like, and buys a fresh loaf of baked bread to go with it.

He picks out a pair of navy blue slacks instead of jeans and pairs them with a t-shirt. He has no idea how Joan will be dressed, so he wants to stay casual. He slings on one of his nicer $10 leather jackets he got from thriftstores in bigger cities before he puts the giftbag on his arm, balances the brown paper bag of the bread in the crook of his arm, and picks up the pot with his soup.

“Go home,” he says to Bonnie when she meows at him in the hallway. “I won’t be back until late,” he says. A kid in the stairway stares at him for a minute and Damien just glares as he manages to lock the door and then heads out to his Uber.

Usually he takes cabs because he can still get a free one that way, if he feels like trying. He’s sure Joan will like it that he paid to take an Uber instead, should she find out. 

Damien manages to leave the car without any spillage from his soup and then walks up Joan’s outdoor staircase. He places the gift bag on the ground so he can balance the pot to knock, and waits.

Joan smiles brightly when she opens the door. She’s in a comfortable red sweater and some black jeans, her hair is in a neat ponytail as usual. She’s got red lipstick on, too, but a fairly neutral brown eye look.

“Here,” she says, reaching out and taking the pot from Damien before stepping back. Damien picks up the giftbag and walks in.

“Aren’t you cold?” Joan clicks her tongue, and Damien just shrugs and leans to kiss her on the cheek. She steals a kiss from his lips, brief so as to not smudge her lipstick, and then goes to put his soup on the stove. “This smells delicious.”

Damien takes off his shoes and jacket and places his giftbag under her tree, and then goes into the kitchen through the dining room to put the bread on the dining table.

“What’s with all that?” Damien asks, jamming his thumb towards the pile of pillows and blankets on the floor near the tree. When he sticks his head back in the living room, he can see the cushions have even been taken from the couch. There’s also a two stray chairs near the pile.

“When we were kids, my family always made a big pillow pile on Christmas morning so we could open gifts right under the tree and stay cozy,” Joan explains, stirring the soup with a spoon as she reheats it.

“Wow, that’s cute,” Damien says, and Joan smiles.

“I figured we could do the same, since you were coming over to exchange gifts,” Joan says, and Damien comes up behind her at the stove to wrap his arms around her middle. 

“You look great, by the way,” Damien says, and Joan laughs lightly.

“I’m starving,” she says as Damien kisses her on the cheek, and then the jaw.

Once the soup is heated up, Joan gets bowls and Damien slices the bread he brought. Joan puts some soft Christmas music on in the background, and they sit at her dining room table to eat.

“This is fantastic,” Joan says, and Damien smiles proudly.

“Glad you like it,” Damien says, and Joan nods, scooping a spoonful into her mouth.

“So, how have your holidays been going?”

“Not too bad,” Damien shrugs. “How are things with you?”

“Good. Like I said, the crisis centre is very tiring, but I am glad to be able to offer the support I do there. I saw Chloe right before Hanukkah, and I got around to having the difficult conversation I’ve been needing to have with Bruce,” Joan says, dipping a piece of bread in her soup and eating it.

“Oh?” Damien asks, and Joan glances at him.

“I mean, we were never serious, so breaking up sounds a bit severe. But I told him I wasn’t really interested in pursuing a further relationship, romantically,” Joan says, and Damien snorts a little.

“Did you phrase it like that?”

“Not _exactly_ ,” Joan says, and Damien laughs a little more. Damien reaches for her hand over the table and Joan rolls her eyes, but leaves her hand to be held. “He seemed to take it okay, thankfully.”

“Well, that’s good. Manage to bang anyone else from your endless string of dates?” Damien asks, smirking as he strokes the back of her thumb.

“I told you about Chris, yes? That was weeks ago, but he seems to have, uh, ‘ghosted’ me,” Joan says, and Damien presses his lips together. “I don’t have many hard feelings- although, I hope it’s not because he thought I was a bad fuck.”

“I have it on pretty good authority you’re fine in bed, Joan. He probably just doesn’t want any sort of commitment.”

“ _Fine_ in bed, huh. Just fine?” Joan asks, quirking her brow as she slowly takes her hand away, but only so she can rip more bread to dip in her soup.

Damien snorts. “ _Joan_. You know I think you’re a bombshell in the sack. Would I really be trying to hit it every time I walk into your house if I didn’t think you were any good?”

Joan shrugs her shoulders, “Maybe _you_ have low standards.”

Damien tilts his head back to laugh. “Maybe I do, but you’d be the exception to that rule.”

A small smile plays up on Joan’s lips, and they continue to eat their soup as Joan directs the conversation back to typical holiday activities. Damien tells her about the outdoor skating rink he’s been frequenting, and about the friends he visited last night.

Once they’re done with their soup, Joan makes some spiked hot chocolate and then brings over some cookies she got from her brother and Sam. They sit and eat them, then slowly trail over to her pile of blankets and pillows so they can exchange their gifts.

“Okay. I have two things, actually,” Joan says, reaching for a box, and then a little bag. “The first one is a bit more jokey.”

“Oh, same,” Damien says, smirking as he pulls over his bag, which contains two smaller bags.

“We can take turns, then,” Joan says with a small smile. “You first. Um. This is sort of for, well,” Joan takes a breath as Damien holds the box, “ _us_ , really.”

Damien furrows his brows and then nods, slowly starting to unwrap the giftwrap as Joan watches him. He laughs when he opens the top of the box and sees what’s inside.

A strap-on harness. When he picks it up to look at the back of the package, there’s something underneath it. Damien tilts his head to laugh.

“I know you were, um, interested in us using one together, so, I figured it would makes sense to buy it. And I thought you might find it amusing.”

“This is the best,” Damien says with another chuckle, and then he picks up the other thing. It’s a pink leather collar necklace, with the classic little heart at the front. Joan takes it from his hand.

“I’m _not_ into bondage, I’m sure that much has been clear up to this point,” Joan starts, unsnapping the collar, and starting to place it around her neck. “But when I was buying that, I saw it any thought it was actually very cute. I decided I could probably pull it off even if we’re not foraying any further into that territory. So. It’s sort of for me, but, for your _viewing_ pleasure.”

“I love it,” Damien tells her with a grin. “It looks good on you,” he says, and then he leans forward to kiss her. She kisses him back.

Well, now he feels a little more secure in his own gag gift for her. Damien digs out the first bag, and she smiles.

Joan takes out the tissue paper, and picks up the massage oil candle. “Ooh,” she says, and she untwists the top of the jar and smells it. It’s not overpowering, but it has a sweet scent to it. “I like it,” she says, and then she reaches in the bag and picks up the maroon babydoll and she starts to laugh.

Damien grins at her, wolf-like, and she holds it up. “Obviously you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want, but. I think it’d look good on you.”

“I bet,” Joan says, laughing a little more. “I’m not even a little surprised,” she confesses, and places it back in the giftbag. She leans forward to kiss him again, and he smiles against her lips.

When she settles back on her pillows, she hands him her second gift.

Damien slowly unwraps the present to reveal a nice leather book. He opens it to find some blank pages in a nice weight, skimming his fingers along them. “Wow, Joan. This is really nice,” he says.

“I know you said you liked art, and you never elaborated on what sort, but, I figured you could make use of it. If not for art, perhaps to collect your favourite or most used recipes,” Joan says, and Damien smiles at her, slowly.

“I love it,” Damien tells her, and she smiles back at him. Damien leans forward to press his lips to her cheek, and then reaches for his second bag to give her. It’s bigger than the first one.

Joan pulls out the tissue paper, and finds two wrapped objects. She pulls out the big one, glancing at Damien, and unwrapping it slowly.

It’s a set of nice bath stuff, including a bottle of bubble bath, some fizzies, two bath bombs and a little package of bath salts, all vanilla scented. “Ooooh,” Joan says, smiling wide. “I am a big fan of bath stuff.”

“Yeah, I got that impression,” Damien says with a chuckle. “I’ve seen your bathroom closet.”

Joan nods and smiles, “Thank you.” Finally, she picks up the last gift, small and sort of cylindrical. She unwraps the present, and finds a small wood carving of a cat. She gasps softly.

“Oh, this is so cute,” Joan says, “is this handmade? It looks like it has _really_ nice craftmanship. Where’d you get it?”

Damien gives her a bemused look, “ _I_ made it, Joan. I’ve been whittling since I was 14.”

Joan looks at him with bright and curious eyes, “Wait, seriously?”

Damien nods, rubbing the back of his neck.

“This is so sweet,” Joan says, turning it over in her hand

“Check the bottom,” Damien mutters softly.

And on the bottom, Joan sees, ‘To: Dr B’ burned into the wood. “Oh my god,” she says, and then she places the cat on the blanket beside her to hug him tightly. Damien chuckles. “Thank you. This is incredibly sweet.”

“Eh, it’s nothing,” Damien says, and Joan takes his hands in her face.

“It’s absolutely not nothing to me, Damien. Thank you,” she says again, and then she kisses him firmly to punctuate her words.

“Alright, alright,” Damien laughs again, and then he kisses her again. Joan smiles against his lips.

“I may have _one_ other thing.”

“Oh?” Damien raises his brow, and Joan presses her lips together.

“Shut your eyes,” Joan says, and Damien gives her another confused look, but he does as he’s told.

Damien puts his hands over his eyes and tries to figure out what’s happening as he hears Joan moving around.

“Okay,” Joan says softly.

when he opens his eyes, she’s kneeling on the pillows in nothing but a black lace bodysuit with a plunging neckline.

“Fuck,” Damien chuckles, and Joan skims a hand over her thigh.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes,” Damien says, and he reaches for her waist, moving a bit closer. Joan laughs and then gasps against his lips as he grips her ass in his hands.

Joan moves a bit closer, and Damien hums, kissing down the front of her body over the lace, one hand coming up her side to pinch her nipple gently as he licks the other. Joan bites her lip, and he moves down her body a bit further.

“Here,” Damien starts, sitting up a bit straighter. “You stay kneeling,” he says, and he moves to lie down partway. Joan presses her lips together, catching onto what he wants from her. When he’s propped on his elbows, he motions for her to come closer, and she moves to straddle him at the chest.

From there, Damien kisses down her stomach and encourages her forward until her kisses her through the lace. Joan takes a moment to adjust her stance when Damien pulls the lace aside and pushes his tongue against her to find her clit.

Joan gasps and grips his hair with one of her hands, and Damien moans against her body. He licks down to find her wet, and then back up to circle her clit with the ball of his piercing as she groans.

Damien laves his tongue against her and lifts a hand to keep her hips forward, encouraging her to move with him. It takes her a moment, but she gets the idea and grips his hair, keeping him where she wants him as he eats her out.

“God, Damien,” Joan shutters, and then sighs. “I want you to fuck me,” she says, and Damien slowly pulls away from her cunt.

“Okay,” he says, smiling a little. Joan nods, and then she picks up a couple of the pillows, and takes out a condom. “Oh, I see how it is.”

“I thought this might happen,” Joan explains, and Damien chuckles as he sits up and kisses her shoulder.

“My little slut,” he mutters, and Joan smirks.

“I’m just being responsible! Although, I suppose it would be relatively low-risk to go without at this point, but- we should discuss a change like that ahead of time.”

“Mhm, that is conversation for… literally any time but now,” Damien says, and Joan nods.

“One more second,” Joan says, and Damien nods. She stands up and grabs one of the blankets, as well as pulls over the chairs, to create a more enclosed pillow fort. Damien chuckles at her. “I think it’ll be fun,” Joan explains, and then she moves to crawl inside the fort and slips one strap of her lace bodysuit down one of her shoulders.

Damien just smiles at her and takes off his t-shirt, and then his slacks and leaves them with her jeans and sweater outside the fort before crawling in with her.

They’ve never really had sex in such an enclosed space, even if the blanket ceiling is pretty flimsy. It’ll be intimate.

Joan pulls her bodysuit off the rest of the way, and she lies down.

Damien removes his boxers and rolls on the condom as Joan spreads her legs. Damien grips one of her knees and presses closer, pushing his cock between her folds before thrusting into her slowly. Joan breathes out and wraps her other leg around Damien’s waist as he starts to roll his hips forward.

“Oh, Damien,” Joan sighs, wrapping her arms around him and pushing her hips up to meet him, moving slower than usual.

Maybe it’ll just be a slow night. They’ve never really done slow and gentle before, but, lying together in a blanket fort with nothing but the lights of her Christmas tree illuminating their skin, Damien thinks tonight is pretty fitting.

When Joan plays with the hair at the back of his neck and sighs his name again, their bodies moving in a gentle, languid tandem, Damien wants to tell her he loves her. He won’t- that would be wild to say in the middle of sex when he knows she’s only seeing him casually.

Instead, he says, “God, you’re beautiful,” and he feels her digging her nails into his back.

The heat between them builds slowly along with their movements, until they’re both moaning and melting like putty in each other’s hands, their names on each other’s lips as they kiss lazily and continue to rock their bodies together.

Damien leans back so he can slip his hand between them, still pushing into her body at a lazy pace, if not a bit more forceful than earlier.

He rubs her clit until her legs are shaking around his waist and she comes with a stilted gasp.

Damien follows her only a few moments later, then Joan reaches to kiss him, all tongue, and Damien groans against her mouth.

Again he just wants to blurt out that he loves her, goddammit. He holds back.

Damien starts to move, holding onto the condom, and Joan just whines a little. “Here,” she says, and she twists to reach out and grab some of the tissue paper. She tells him to tie it off and just put it there for them to dispose of later, and Damien shrugs and settles close to her so they can snuggle.

Joan kisses him a few more times, and he pulls her hair from it’s ponytail so he can play with it.

“Merry Christmas,” Joan murmurs against his lips, and Damien smiles.

“Merry Christmas, Dr B,” Damien whispers back, and he kisses her again before pulling her closer to his chest and rubbing her back.


	9. Chapter 9

Joan awakes to a loud banging noise and she gasps, sitting up quickly and then groaning loudly as her back protests. She gets a face full of blanket, so she blinks and then pulls back from it, confused.

“The fuck?” she hears beside her, muttered in a sleepy tone.

Then there’s more banging, and only a moment later, Joan hears her front door opening, and someone calling out, “Joanie?”

Joan gasps again and quickly pulls the blanket from the chairs and onto her body, “MARK. Close your eyes,” she yells in an authoritative tone.

“Oh my god,” Sam says, and Joan glances over at Damien. He was already wrapped up in another of the blankets she had in the fort, and he currently looks like he’s struggling not to laugh.

Joan looks back to her family members and they both have their eyes closed, thank god. She manages to get the blanket tucked around her as she slowly stands up, and Damien loses his resolve, laughing into her pillows.

“We are _so_ sorry, Joan,” Sam is saying, gloved hands covering her eyes. “We just- it’s been over an hour since you were supposed to be at our place, and you didn’t answer the phone or check any of your texts, I, well- I got worried,” Sam says, and Joan takes a deep breath.

“It’s not your fault, Sam. My phone is upstairs, along with the alarm clock that should have woken me up, but- well, obviously, I… forgot to sleep in my bed.”

Damien snorts loudly, muttering, “Yeah, that’s what happened,” under his breath. But he starts to follow Joan in moving, picking up his clothes, and hers, from the night prior. He also makes sure to ball up the tissue with their condom to put in the trash.

“Now. If you two will just… continue to keep your eyes closed, we’ll be right back.” Joan exhales a deep breath, quickly walking towards the stairs, and Damien follows her.

“And if you happen to want to forget all about this, I think I can help with that,” Damien adds, and Sam and Mark just huff.

“It’s okay,” Mark mutters.

And then, Joan and Damien disappear upstairs.

“I’m going to be pissed if I get a UTI,” Joan sighs once they’re in her bedroom, picking up her phone to see the increasingly worried texts from Sam and Mark. Damien clicks his tongue.

“That would suck,” he admits, and he goes over to her drawers where she’s started putting clothes he leaves there for their, uh, sleepovers.

He gets dressed in some jeans and a t-shirt, and Joan gets into some deep red knitted leggings and a long black shirt.

“God, are you trying to drive me crazy?” Damien asks when he looks her up and down.

“Damien, these are just my normal clothes. Perhaps you just find me attractive in general?”

“Well, we already knew that,” Damien says, pulling her forward to kiss her. She kisses him back, close-lipped.

“We need to brush our teeth,” Joan says, and they go to the bathroom to do just that. Joan pulls her hair up in a neat, tight ponytail as he pees, then she does as he washes his hands.

Then, they finally go back downstairs to face the mortifying ordeal of her brother and his girlfriend having walked in on _that_ this morning.

“So,” Damien asks, “who wants breakfast?”

Mark clears his throat and nods. They’re still standing in the entryway, looking perplexed and hesitant. “Yeah, that sounds great,” he says.

The four of them trail into Joan’s kitchen and Damien begins whips up some French toast and ham as Joan puts on some coffee, and some hot water for tea

“I just wanted to say sorry, again,” Sam blurts as Joan places a mug of tea down in front of her.

“It’s okay, Sam. These things happen. I mean, surely Mark has told you about the time when we were twenty and I-,”

“Uh, Joan?” Mark cuts her off, and Joan purses her lips.

“ _I_ haven’t heard of the time you and Mark were twenty and you…” Damien says, and Mark breathes in slowly.

“I have not, and won’t be, telling that story,” Mark maintains, shooting a glare at his sister. Sam presses her lips together. “And neither will Joan,” he insists, and Joan clears her throat.

“Right,” Joan says, and she goes over to pour three cups of coffee. She does her own, and then Damien’s, handing it to him. “Make sure it’s alright?”

Damien takes a sip. “Perfect, babe.”

Joan smiles and then brings coffee, sugar, and cream over to the table for her brother, and puts the non-dairy creamer back in the fridge.

“Thanks, Joanie,” Mark says, and he puts some cream and sugar into his coffee before returning it to its rightful place. Joan goes and brings the chairs she brought into the living room back over to her table, and then sits to wait for the French toast and ham.

Damien serves them up and they all sit to eat. There’s still a bit of lingering anxiety, but Joan asks Mark and Sam how things are, and they end up on the topic of New Years Eve plans.

“Are you still planning to come to our very small soiree?” Mark asks, glancing between Joan and Damien.

“I am. Somehow I have it off, though I’ll be staying relatively sober because I have an early morning next day at the centre,” Joan says, and Mark nods.

“I assume you’re coming?” Mark asks, to Damien, and Damien shrugs.

“Probably,” Damien says, noncommittal.

“It would be nice if you can make it. I meant to bring it up last night, but it slipped my mind,” Joan says, and Damien glances at her.

Sam picks at the side of her nail as she hums, “It really will be pretty small and you’re obviously welcome. I mean… Chloe will be there, but we all assumed you’d be coming- so as long as you’re _both_ civil.”

Damien shrugs again, “Yeah, I’ll probably show my face.”

Joan nods and finishes the last of her coffee and the conversation drifts onto movies Mark wants to see before New Years Eve ends and it’s no longer appropriate to be watching Christmas films any longer.

Joan stacks the dishes in her sink when they’re done eating, and Damien kisses her on the cheek before they wander towards the living room.

“Um, so, we didn’t bring along the presents we got for you, Joan,” Sam admits

“Well, I _was_ supposed to be going over there. Your presents are here. I still have a few hours before my shift starts, we can still do that,” Joan says.

“I should probably head out pretty soon,” Damien says, and Joan nods slowly.

“Right,” Joan says. Then, she smiles, glancing back at the tree. “Sam, Mark, I want you to show you what Damien got me.”

Damien scoffs, and Sam tilts her head. Joan goes over to the tree and picks up the bag with the bath stuff and cat carving. Sam follows her in, and Mark is shortly behind her.

“Always in need of more bath stuff,” Joan says, “but most importantly, this,” she holds up the cat, and Sam gasps.

“Oh, that’s so cute,” Sam presses her hands to her face, and Mark chuckles.

“He made it,” Joan says, and Damien is shaking his head at her. Joan turns it over to show the burning, and Sam places a hand on her own cheek.

“That’s adorable,” Sam says again, and Joan holds out for Sam to take it. Mark looks over Sam’s shoulder as she turns it over.

“It’s, like.. whatever,” Damien mutters, and Joan just smirks at him.

“It’s _sweet_ ,” Joan insists, and she sidesteps Sam and Mark to bring Damien down for a kiss by his neck. Damien kisses her back, hugging her close for a second before she moves away again.

“I need to find a good place for it,” Joan says as Sam offers it back to her, glancing over at Damien.

“It really is beautiful,” Mark says. Damien shrugs.

“Yeah. Well, uh. Like I said, I should probably get going,” Damien tells them. Joan nods, and then walks with him to see him out at the door.

“So,” Joan murmurs, as he’s putting on his jacket. “I’m sorry I forgot to ask you properly about New Years Eve. But.. I’d like it if you came. Of course, you don’t have to, though.”

“I’ll be there, Jo,” Damien says, and Joan tilts her head.

“Jo?”

“A nickname that’s not Joanie,” Damien says, and Joan chuckles.

“Okay,” she breathes, and then she kisses him.

“I do have another thing to go to, on New Years Eve, but maybe I can swing by there- or we can, and then go to your brother’s?”

Joan smiles. “That sounds doable. We can discuss it later- I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Kay,” Damien says, and they kiss one more time before Damien heads out.

He has nowhere specific to be, of course. When he gets home, Bonnie isn’t even in the hallway.

Still, it was one of the better Christmases he’s had in recent years, and mortifying Joan’s family was only the icing on the cake.

\--

New Years Eve finds Joan and Damien dressed up, with plans to attend two parties.

First, Damien’s friend Alison is hosting a sizable house party, as she does every year.

People are yelling when they enter the house, and as they make their way into the living room a couple men come to clap Damien on the shoulder and wish him well.

They both smile widely as they’re introduced to Joan, but it’s the third that says,

“Hey, this the girlfriend you’re always yammering about?”

“Shut up,” Damien says, shoving the guy a little. “She’s not my _girlfriend_ , we’re _seeing each other_ ,” Damien explains, and the guy just laughs. “This is Jeff,” Damien says to Joan. Joan nods.

“Nice to meet you,” Joan says, and Jeff continues to laugh.

“You seem nice. Haveta be, to put up with him,” Jeff says, shoving Damien with a good-natured smile on his face. Then, Jeff moves along and Damien shakes his head after him.

“We don’t have to stay long,” he promises her. Joan just smiles.

“It’s fine,” Joan insists.

Damien guides her back to the kitchen of the house and then grabs Jell-o shots for them with a smirk. “I know you don’t want to get too drunk, but… Jell-o shots, Dr B.”

“Oh, I agree,” Joan says, accepting the blue shot. Damien’s is green, and both stick their tongues in the plastic cups and Joan giggles after she swallows it.

“I think this was made with tequila,” Damien says with a touch of confusion, and Joan hums.

“I could only taste the Jell-o, which makes it fully dangerous.”

Damien breathes a laugh and goes to pour her something at a reasonable strength, and she accepts the red cup and takes a sip.

From there, Damien introduces her to a few more people, including Alison herself who is clearly drunk. She hugs Joan and Joan hugs back, laughing lightly.

“So you’re a therapist, right?” Alison asks, and Joan nods. “Wow. That’s a really special job. You must be super smart,” Alison says sagely, and Joan continues nodding, bemused.

“Allie, you’re wasted,” Damien says, and Alison nods.

“I know,” Alison says, finishing the drink in her hand. She places a hand on Joan’s shoulder. “Please have fun, and if you need anything, let me know. Unless I’m passed out, then you’ll have to rely on Damien or Ash.”

“Please be careful,” Joan says, knitting her brows together. Alison squeezes her shoulder, and then leaves.

“She’ll be fine. Her girlfriend’s right there,” Damien says, and he nods towards a woman with elaborately braided hair, who starts to walk towards them when Damien catches her eye.

“I’m just gonna say sorry for her, I know she’s drunk,” the woman says as she arrives next to them.

“No worries. Joan, this is Ash, Alison’s girlfriend. Ashely, Joan.” Damien says, and Ash smiles and sticks out her hand. Joan shakes it.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Joan says.

“You too! We’ve heard _many_ good things,” Ash says, and Joan tucks a piece of hair behind her hair.

“Oh?” she asks, and Damien rolls his eyes.

“Please,” Damien says.

“He never shuts up about you,” Ash stage whispers.

“Lies and slander,” Damien says, “I may have mentioned you _once_ , twice, maybe.”

“Mhmmm,” Joan nods, and Ash just glances her up and down and smiles.

Joan and Ash talk a little bit about what each of them do. Ash is a dental hygienist, and informs Joan that Alison works as a bookkeeper for a law office. Ash tells Joan it’s nice to meet her before she starts to follow Allie outside the back door.

“They both seem exceptionally nice,” Joan says as Damien puts his arm around her.

“We go way back,” Damien says. “Allie and I met when I was, y’know, working.”

“Ah,” Joan says, and he leans to kiss her on the cheek.

Then, he changes the subject entirely. “Y’know, that time we met up at the club, we never even got to dance,” Damien says slowly, and Joan smiles at him, a little timid.

“No, we didn’t.”

“Care to dance, Jo?”

Joan nods, and Damien pulls her back into the living room near the group of people who are dancing to some music playing. Other people are piled onto all of the furniture, talking loudly, eating food, and sipping drinks.

Damien places his hands on Joan’s hips and pulls her close as they move to the music.

During the second song, Damien leans down to kiss her and Joan puts her arms around his neck to kiss him back, his hands pressed up her back.

Joan pulls back and smiles, and then turns in his arms and moves to the next song, which is a little faster. A few people hoot and holler as another group of people arrive, and Damien kisses Joan on the neck for just a second before she twists back around in his arms and smiles.

After one more song, they decide to head back to the kitchen to grab some plates of food. Ash and Allie have set out quite the spread, with help from a couple of their other friends providing dishes, Damien included.

Joan and Damien stand near the wall to chat as they pick at the same plate, and a couple more people come over to say hi to Damien and be introduced to Joan.

“Do you know many more of the people here?” Joan asks, and Damien shakes his head.

“Maybe, like, ten people total, including the ones you’ve already met. Ash and Allie know a lot of people from a lot of places, then they all get their plus ones, and suddenly it’s a rager,” Damien laughs, and Joan nods.

“It’s been years since I’ve been to a houseparty with this sort of vibe,” Joan admits. “It’s fun, though.”

“Yeah?”

Joan smiles and nods, biting into half of a cookie and then offering him the other half. He laughs and takes it from her with his teeth.

He chews, swallows, and then laughs. “You’re so fucking cute, Dr B,” Damien shakes his head.

“I try. On occasion." 

They go to dance again, until Joan checks her watch and announces they should probably head out. Mark specified that she should arrive no later than 10:15 and made her promise to be on time.

Damien finds Ash and Allie to say goodbye and thank them for the invite, and Allie hugs Joan again. Ash claps her on the shoulder and Joan says, again, that it was nice to meet them both.

“We’ll have to hang out sometime,” Allie says, and Ash and Joan both nod.

“I’d like that,” Joan says, and Allie smiles brightly.

“See you,” Damien says to them, and then he puts his arm around Joan to guide her out.

They take a cab to Mark and Sam’s place, and Damien kisses her most of the way there- at least when Joan isn’t laughing against his lips. 

Mark and Sam both hug Joan when she arrives. They’re both dressed nicely, and their apartment has been arranged to bring most of the seating into the living room, where the kitchen has plenty of food set out.

“Happy New Years!” Mark says, and they take off their shoes to walk in.

“Hi Joan!” Chloe says, and Joan gives her a hug. “Damien,” Chloe nods, and Damien smiles at her, but it has something of a bite to it.

“Chloe,” Damien nods back.

“Did you have a good Christmas?” Chloe asks, and Joan nods.

“Yes. It’s been busy at the crisis centre, but we had um, a lovely time on Christmas eve and a nice Christmas morning,” Joan says, specifically focusing on the memories of the gift-giving and the breakfast they had so as to direct Chloe away from the sex and mortification. 

“That’s wonderful,” Chloe says.

Most of the other people present are Mark’s friends. Sam is hovering beside Mark, but she makes her way back to Chloe as Joan pulls Damien towards the kitchen.

“Always room for more snacks during the holidays,” Joan says.

“Oh yeah,” Damien comments, and they grab another plate of finger foods to share. Joan pours them some sparkling wine, and they go to stand in the living room with the others and chat.

While Joan goes to throw their paper plate into the compost, Mark goes over to talk to Damien. As she’s heading back into the living room, Mark’s front door opens again.

A tall, broad young man comes down the hall with a shorter man behind him.

“Dr Bright!” Caleb says, and Joan gasps.

“Caleb! I didn’t realize you were coming! And, please, you know you can call me Joan,” she insists, and they share a hug.

“I told Mark and Sam to keep it a secret. I had exams up until the last day before break so it’s been fucking wild trying to cram in everything I want to do while I’m home,” Caleb explains, and Joan nods. “We’ll be here for like a half-hour before catching the countdown with my family.”

“Hi,” Adam says.

Joan smiles and gives him a short hug as well, “Hello, Adam.”

Then, they start to migrate in towards an empty couch. The boys sit on the cushions, and Joan perches on the arm. “How was first semester, for both of you?”

“A little hard,” Caleb says, glancing at Adam, as he nods. “There’s a fuckton to do.”

“Mmhm,” Joan says. “It’s a busy time, and a big adjustment to make.”

“Yeah, you can say that again,” Adam says.

“For sure,” Caleb agrees. “But, I’ve been prioritizing classes, maintaining contact with Adam, and getting to know some of the new people. I thought some of my friends from high school were bugged when I wasn’t messaging as much, but I got to catch up with them over the break and I think we’re on the same page about, y’know, branching out.”

“Mmmh. Long distance relationships, platonic or otherwise, can be a challenge,” Joan tells him. At that point, Damien joins them, offering Joan a refilled flute of wine. She accepts it with a smile. “You might find some of your friendships more enduring than others.”

“Yeah, for sure.”

“There are a couple of people I’ve known forever that, no matter what, whenever we meet up again, it’s like no time has past. Most aren’t like that, though,” Adam says, and Joan nods.

“Those relationships can be very valuable. It takes all kinds, though,” Joan says, and then she glances at Damien. “Um. I can’t recall if you’ve been introduced?”

Caleb clears his throat a little, “Uh. I think we met once? Back when you were, um, doing some… investigating on some things,” Caleb says. Very subtle.

“You’re the feelings guy, huh?” Damien asks, and Caleb nods. Adam covers up a snort.

“We’ve also heard about you from, uh, Sam and Chloe,” Caleb admits, and Joan drinks from her wine glass.

“Riight,” Joan says, looking at Damien. Damien just looks like he’s trying not to laugh, so Joan shakes her head and glances back at Caleb. “Well. Damien and I have been seeing each other for, what, four whole months now? At least.”

“About that,” Damien says. Caleb just nods.

“Well, you do seem happy, Dr Bright,” Caleb says, and Joan smiles.

“Call me Joan, please,” she says, and Caleb nods.

“Joan,” he repeats.

Damien’s phone buzzes, and he places a hand on Joan’s shoulder blade. “I’ll be right back, Dr B.”

“Okay,” she says, and he goes to take the call.

“He still gets to call you Dr,” Caleb points out.

“I have no control over his decisions, or yours. He does call me Joan, most of the time, I think Dr B is just akin to a pet name at this point.”

“Gross,” Caleb says, and Joan scrunches her nose.

“It really is,” she nods, and Adam chuckles.

“I dunno. He seems pretty okay to me,” Adam comments.

At that point, Chloe trails over and greets them with a smile and a, "Hi!!"

Caleb stands to hug her, and the four of them chat for a while before Joan excuses herself. Damien comes in from outside, and she tilts her head, walking down the hall to meet him.

“It was literally just some pre-recorded IRS spam call. Then I decided to have a cigarette,” Damien admits, and Joan lifts her chin.

“Oh,” she says, and he shrugs and she leans forward to peck him on the lips. Damien grabs a new glass of wine, but Joan refuses another one for the time being.

They go back into the living room, where people have rearranged entirely in the minute or two they were gone. Adam is squished between Chloe and Sam, and Caleb is standing up talking to Mark. Mark’s friends are in two little circles. 

Joan sits in a loveseat, and Damien sits on the arm of the chair as they chat.

Then, a few minutes later, Joan excuses herself to go pee, and Damien kisses her on the cheek as she leaves.

While he’s alone, Damien scrolls through his phone until someone sits on the loveseat next to him. He glances over, and Caleb is there.

“I talked to Sam and Chloe, but I can’t really figure it out,” Caleb starts, and Damien perks his brow. “Does Dr Bright- er, Joan, _know_ you’re in love with her or are you still, like, working up to that?”

Damien scoffs and drinks his wine. “I mean. I’d say _in love_ is a little strong.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t, and I’m usually preeeetty good at picking up on other people’s feelings,” Caleb says, tilting his head from side to side.

Damien purses his lips. “Whatever, kid,” Damien mutters, and Caleb just shakes his head.

“I mean, obviously I don’t know the actual intricacies of your relationship. But I don’t really get what you’re afraid of, either. Like I said, Dr Bright seems pretty happy around you, for better or for worse,” Caleb says. Damien just scrunches his nose and wishes Caleb would shut up, which he does. Then, Damien sighs and forces himself to _not_ want his ability to do that right now.

Caleb huffs at him.

“Sorry,” Damien mutters.

“Whatever,” Caleb says. “All any of us care about is that Joan is happy and that you _genuinely_ care for her, and I think you do. Not all of her friends agree, but, that’s something only you can prove.”

“I know,” Damien says, rolling his eyes. “Look, punk, the second Joan says she _wants_ me to, I dunno, commit or whatever, I’ll be there. The ball’s always been in her court.”

“Or you could be up front about what you want from your relationship,” Caleb says, and Damien just pulls a face half-pained, half-skeptical.

“Whatever, you’re still an entire baby- what are you, 19? Whatta you know?”

“Oh, I am _clearly_ less emotionally constipated than you are, and age absolutely doesn’t dictate that,” Caleb laughs, and Damien just glares at him. “Sure, my brain has development to go, but I’ve actually made a concerted effort to understand and manage my emotions. I mean, I didn’t really have a _choice_.”

“Sounds awful,” Damien says, and Caleb just rolls his eyes at him.

“No offense, but what the fuck does Joan see in you?”

“Ouch, you hurt one of my three feelings,” Damien says, placing a hand on his chest. “Also, fuck if I know, kid.” And he can’t very well tell a teenager ‘dick too bomb’, though he is tempted.

Caleb rolls his eyes again, and then glances over as Joan walks back over to them.

“Hey,” she says, and they both look at each other. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Oh, he was just saying he’ll beat me up if I break your heart,” Damien says, and Caleb glares at him.

“I wouldn’t say that’s exactly what I was saying, but,” Caleb stares at Damien, and Damien finishes his wine.

“That’s a very sweet sentiment, but even if Damien and I break up I’m sure we can handle it maturely, no need for violence on any side,” Joan says, and Damien breathes in through his nose. Caleb gives him another look.

“I know, Dr Bright. I have faith you can handle yourself, but, y’know,” Caleb shrugs, and Joan smiles warmly.

Then, Caleb checks his phone and sighs. “I should go get Adam so we can say our goodbyes,” he says, and he stands up.

Caleb and Adam give out another round of hugs, and then head out. There’s a little under an hour left until midnight, and Mark changes the television from music to a countdown station.

When Damien sits on the loveseat, Joan sits sideways on his lap.

“I hope Caleb wasn’t grilling you too hard. He can be a bit… protective of the people he cares for,” Joan says, and Damien snorts.

“Nah, he’s fine. I think he likes me better than most of your friends, honestly. I guess the bar is a little low,” Damien grimaces, and Joan tilts her head in agreement.

“Sam and Mark like you fine. Chloe is the only one you _really_ pissed off, I think.”

“Guess I need to try harder.”

“To win over Chloe?”

“To make the rest of your friends hate me. Can’t be the bad boy not-boyfriend if all your friends are fine with me,” Damien squeezes her thigh, and Joan laughs, and then she leans in close.

“How can you be a bad boy when you’re always so good for me?” she asks, her lips against his ear.

“ _Joan_ ,” Damien says, shaking her knee as she laughs, clapping a hand over her mouth.

“I couldn’t resist. You walked right into it,” Joan insists, and he shakes his head.

“Oh, I’ll give you something to walk into,” he mutters, and Joan breathes in a laugh.

Eventually, Joan leaves Damien’s lap and chats with some of Mark's other friends, and Damien speaks to Sam while she's briefly not orbiting either Chloe or Mark.

At about ten minutes to the countdown, people start migrating towards seats closer to the television.

Joan shuffles close to Damien and smiles at him. They join in for the countdown, and when the clock strikes 12, Damien leans down to kiss her.

“Happy New Year, baby,” Damien mumbles against her lips.

“Happy New Year,” Joan says sweetly.

They mingle for another half hour or so before Joan sighs and says she should be getting home to sleep. As Damien holds out her jacket, she asks,

“Are you coming over to my place? I'll have to leave early in the morning, but.. “

“Do you want me to come over?” Damien asks as he pulls on his boots.

“If you want.”

“Do _you_ want?”

“Yes,” Joan says. “Although I will be clear, I need to go right to sleep, and you will probably be alone in my house when you wake up, so it’s not like you’ll get much out if it.”

“I’ll come over, Jo.”

So after saying their last goodbyes to Mark and Sam, they take a cab back to Joan's place and launch straight into getting ready for bed, as Joan said they must. 

Damien snuggles up to her back, breathing in the scent of her hairspray. It's strong and not all that pleasant, but he refuses to move his face from her hair. 

“G’night, Joan.”

“Night, Damien,” she mumbles back.


	10. Chapter 10

Damien is still at Joan's by the time she gets back from her shift, because he didn’t want to leave.

“Something smells good,” Joan calls out as she hangs up her jacket, peering into the kitchen.

“Hope it tastes as good. Classic chili,” he tells her from his spot next to the stove, “and I made tea biscuits.”

“What the hell,” Joan says with a laugh, approaching him to offer a kiss on the cheek. Then, she goes over to taste the chili. “This is amazing.”

“You should probably wife me,” Damien smirks, “clearly I’d make an excellent stay at home husband.”

“Wife you?”

“Sorry, sometimes I forget you’re pop culture illiterate.”

“No, I mean, that is _so_ last year, Damien,” Joan scoffs, and then she places her hands on his neck to pull him down for a real kiss.

Damien chuckles at her, “You ready to eat?”

Joan nods eagerly, and once the table is prepared, they sit to eat their food.

Joan sprinkles some cheese on her chili, and Damien goes without. Joan tells him through a bite of her biscuit that it’s very good.

Damien grins back at her, scooping some chili onto his own biscuit.

After dinner, Joan rinses the dishes and then excuses herself to go upstairs and change into shorts and a tank top, sans bra, so she can be more comfortable, and then they settle on the couch.

Joan puts on the news under the guise of staying informed, although she mostly only watches to know what the weather will be like.

“There's something I’d like to discuss with you,” Joan says out of nowhere, playing with Damien's hair.

“Okay, Jesus. Ominous. What is it?” Damien asks, and Joan shifts so her body is angled more towards him.

“You’ve had a vasectomy, I have an IUD and I no longer have other sexual partners,” Joan says, and Damien nods.

“Yeeess?”

“Well, I was thinking, maybe,” Joan shifts, and Damien perks a brow. He’s incredibly curious and he wants to know what she wants to tell him, but he does his best to keep his ability at bay.

“What is it, baby?”

“I would like to have sex without condoms,” Joan says, and Damien's eyes go a little wide.

“Wait, really?” he asks, and Joan nods quickly.

“Yes. Um. Specifically, I want you to… come inside me,” Joan says, biting her lip.

Damien leans over to kiss her softly, and she kisses back, waiting. “I’d like that,” he murmurs against her lips.

“Yeah?” Joan breathes out, glancing between them then back up again.

“Mhmm,” Damien smirks, looking her up and down in turn.

Joan kisses him harder, her hand coming to his cheek. Damien reaches out to hold her hip and bring her a little closer to him.

“Is it just about the sensation?” Damien starts to ask, moving down her neck slowly as his lips brush her skin, “Or d’you want me to talk about how much I’ll fill you up? Tell you I’m gonna give you a baby…?”

Joan squirms a little, gripping his hair harder. “I don’t what it is exactly, or why, but I’ve always liked it,” Joan whispers. “It’s been… literal years, though, since I’ve done something like this.”

Damien raises a brow. “So, that ex of yours never…?”

“Er, no. Owen was anxious over the possibility of me getting pregnant before we were ready, and we got together before I was certain I _didn’t_ want to become a mother, and it seemed like- I’d never have asked him to do that, or say that sort of thing to me, either way.”

“Like putting a baby in you?” Damien smirks, and Joan nods. Damien chuckles. “Well obviously I can’t actually do that and neither of us want it. But I have _no_ trouble at all saying those things to you anyway.”

Joan nods, her cheeks hot, and then she leans forward to kiss him again. Damien pulls her into his lap fully this time and Joan settles, canting her hips forward as he sucks her tongue into his mouth. Damien presses up against her and she lets out a moan, gripping his hair as he kisses her neck and bites the flesh under her ear.

“Damien,” Joan breathes, bringing his face up to meet in another searing kiss. “Bedroom, now,” she says, and Damien laughs into her mouth.

“Good idea,” Damien says, kissing her as she slowly moves to climb off him. He follows her, his hands sliding under her shirt to bring it up and over her head, then toss it on the couch. Joan laughs and does the same to him, and Damien pulls her close by the waist to push their chests together and kiss her deeply.

“We aren’t even _upstairs_ yet,” Joan sighs as she shuts her eyes and Damien kisses down her collar.

“But you’re so fucking sexy, I can’t keep my hands off you,” Damien mutters against her, and Joan clicks her tongue at him.

Joan pulls back and Damien smirks at her, and she takes his hand to lead him towards the stairs. She pauses at the foot of the stairs to kiss him again, and he presses her up to the wall in the space between the key hooks and the staircase.

“Damien,” Joan tilts her head and spreads her legs as his knee comes between them. She grips the back of his head and kisses just under his jaw, groaning quietly as he pushes against her.

“Fuck, Joan,” Damien slides his hands down into her shorts at the back, gripping her ass and pulling her forward. She gasps and moans, Damien leans to kiss down her chest again.

“Damien,” she whines, but she moves to help him as he tugs her shorts and underwear down and slowly drops to his knees in front of her. “Okay,” she breathes, and he smirks up at her as he kisses her thigh.

“Just a _tiny_ detour,” he says, and Joan nods as he gets her to hook her leg over his shoulder. She braces one hand on the railing of the staircase as he kisses her inner thigh before spreading her folds and tonguing her clit.

“God,” Joan breathes, and she steadies her other hand in his hair, biting down on her lip as he sucks her clit into his mouth and groans against her.

Joan presses her back to the wall and shuts her eyes, feeling his tongue lick down and find her soaking wet. Damien hums and presses his tongue back to her clit again as she whines.

“Damien,” she moans, and then looks back down. “Damien, I want you to fuck me, now. Upstairs,” she pants, and Damien nods before sucking her clit gently and standing up.

“Okay, okay,” he says, and she moves to step onto the stairs, with him at her heels.

Damien grabs her by the hips as she turns towards him upon entering her bedroom. He kisses her, and her hands comes to his belt as she kisses back. They manage to get it undone, and he shoves down his pants as she reaches to stroke his cock a few times.

“On the bed,” Damien says against her mouth, and Joan nods, pulling away from him regretfully as she gets onto the bed. “I was about to go to your bedside table, but, well.”

“Don’t need to,” Joan says with a giddy little smile as he crawls on the bed, leaning over her with his hands next to her head.

“You sure about this, baby?”

“Mhmm,” Joan nods. “Very sure. Fuck me, Damien,” she says, and he chuckles and lifts one hand to take the underside of her knee, pressing her back.

Joan holds her breath for just a moment as he slides inside of her, swift but gentle. “Fuck, Joan. You’re so wet,” he mutters, and she lifts a hand to dig her nails into his shoulder, rocking her hips up to his.

“Harder, Damien,” Joan gasps, and he finally wastes no time in heeding her request, snapping his hips forward to get a grueling pace.

“God, Joan, you’re such a sexy little slut, huh? Want me to fill you up, hm?”

“Yes,” Joan tilts her head back and he kisses her jaw. Her breath hitches as he fucks her good and hard, “Fuck.”

“Mmh,” Damien smiles against her skin, whispering in her ear that he’ll pump her full real soon, but she’s gonna have to wait for it. Joan wraps her leg around his waist and moans, pulling him even deeper inside her.

Joan scratches down his back, not hard enough to draw blood but probably close with how she’s clinging to him. “Baby, please,” Joan bites her lip.

“You like this, huh?” Damien asks her, and she just whines in response. “Gonna put a baby inside you,” he tells her, voice deep and throaty, and Joan pants, murmuring his name again.

“Yes, there,” Joan gasps.

“I’ll come inside you, baby, but you’re gonna have to come for me first. Fair is fair, hm?” Damien bites her ear and Joan whines, arching her back against the bed.

“Damien,” Joan’s breath hitches as she digs her heel into his thigh.

Joan gasps once more as she comes, white hot and seeing stars.

“Fuck, Joan,” Damien groans against her skin and follows her over the edge, emptying into her as she sighs and moans. He pulls out of her slowly and looks her up and down, taking her in from her heaving chest to her dripping cunt. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, and Joan reaches to pull him in to kiss her again.

They fall down on their sides, Joan’s leg hiked up on Damien’s hip with one of his knees between hers. They kiss, less heated and more lazy than before.

“I think that might have been the best sex I’ve ever had,” Joan tells him, and Damien laughs.

“Yeah. Me too, honestly,” he mutters, and Joan raises her brows.

“Wow. Lucky me,” Joan says, and Damien chuckles. They continue to kiss, which quickly leads to a round two with Joan in Damien’s lap, foreheads pressed together as they fuck until they’re both exhausted. 

Still, Joan suggests they shower together, and Damien agrees. As much as he kind of wants to try for a third round, he’s pretty spent, so they actually wash up and then go back to her room.

“One second,” Joan says, “I think I’m gonna change my sheets.”

Damien laughs, and he helps her with them.

Joan goes to her dresser to grab her pyjama and tosses Damien a pair of underwear he left there.

“I see you found a spot for your cat,” Damien comments, catching the boxers and moving to step into them. He nods towards the shelf on her wall that has a picture of herself and Mark as well as a little succulent, and now the wooden cat he gave her for Christmas.

“Yeah,” Joan says, fondness in her voice as she pulls on her striped pj pants, and the matching shirt.

“Oh, those are cute,” Damien says, and Joan chuckles.

“I got them in the centre’s secret santa,” she says, fiddling with the button. “They’re a tiny bit big, but I like them.”

“I think you look great. Though, I also think you’d make a potato sack look hot, sooo.”

“I guess I shouldn’t take fashion advice from you, then,” Joan laughs.

“Were you _going_ to?” Damien asks, and Joan snorts.

“I mean, no,” Joan says, and Damien laughs as they settle on the bed together.

It’s not _particularly_ late, but they talk until Joan says she needs to get to sleep, and then they both take turns in the bathroom brushing their teeth.

As Damien snuggles up behind her, after Joan has set her alarm clock, the words _I love you_ are on the tip of his tongue.

What he says is, “Goodnight, Joan.”

“G’night, Damien,” she murmurs back. He kisses her head, and shuts his eyes.

\--

Damien goes home the next day, but she asks him over again only two days after that when she has the day off.

“Y’know, a lot of people hate the 9 to 5 schedule, but I miss the consistency,” Joan sighs. 

Joan is sitting with one foot on Damien's thigh, the other across his lap as something is playing on the television. She's wearing one of his white tank tops and a pair of purple French-cut panties. 

“Weren’t you hunting for a different job?” Damien asks, and Joan nods.

“I am. I took a bit of a break because the holidays were hectic, but I’ve started looking again.”

“Still thinking of going back to school?”

“Ah, yeah. There are a couple of applications in my office upstairs that I need to actually send, but… I’m hesitant,” Joan admits.

“Yeah?”

“It’s just- A bit bullshit that the AM has what is essentially a monopoly on working with atypical research in the United States. I never did like that there was only _one_ institution doing this sort of work, it seems a bit… reductive. I mean, if they are the only ones, who are they accountable to? And, sure, there are other branches I could possibly work with, if I wanted to move. But my whole family is here.”

“Hmm. That’s a predicament. You could always go rogue,” he says, and Joan gives him a look. “I mean. Could you not see about establishing some research centre of your own or something? Some sort of independent thing. Just because there’s only one place that does the research _now_ doesn’t mean there can’t be another,” Damien squeezes her calf, and Joan sighs, pressing her head to the couch.

“I mean. I could try. The AM wouldn’t be happy about it.”

“Fuck them, Joan, they don’t own you.”

“I know,” Joan sighs. “But it might be more trouble than what it’s worth. They might not be able to stop me directly, I guess, but they’d do _whatever_ they could to prevent me from being successful.”

“Well. If you need any support, moral or otherwise, I’m here,” Damien says, and Joan smiles.

“Immoral support?” she says, and Damien laughs.

“I meant, like, I’d cheer you on. However, I will also support you in immoral ways if you need,” Damien says with a wink. “I mean. Maybe the people at the AM will just want to leave you alone, hm?”

Joan hums. “I appreciate the sentiment, but you know that would be dangerous, Damien. God knows what they would actually do if they got their hands on you.”

Damien resists rolling his eyes, “What, like, they’re gonna snatch me up and hold me against my will?”

Joan presses her lips together. “I mean. I certainly _hope_ not, but. I have many concerns about the current ‘direction’ they’re taking that I didn’t ‘fit with’,” Joan says, and Damien looks mildly unsettled.

“Yeah, okay, that is a little spooky. But, I’m sure I’d be fine, Joan,” Damien assures her.

“Just don’t do anything concerning them without telling me first, okay?” Joan presses. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if something foul is going on and you get tangled up in it just because of me.”

“Awh, Dr B. It’s startin’ to sound like you care about me or something,” Damien teases, and Joan frowns at him.

“Damien, of course I care about you.”

“Awh,” Damien says again, and Joan just glares at him. “I know, Joan, I know,” Damien pats her leg.

“Okay,” Joan says softly, and then she picks up the remote to change the channel when the thing they weren’t watching ends.

Joan gets through half of the new thing she’s watching before she picks up her phone. Damien is tracing shapes along her calf, seemingly paying attention to the movie. Although, usually, if they’re _actually_ watching a movie, they react to it out loud. He’s been quiet, so she assumes he’s not really paying attention either.

“Y’know. I think I might give up on dating,” Joan announces, looking over at Damien. He gets the feeling her words are pointed, but he isn’t exactly sure how.

“Uh, okay,” Damien says. She hums, and nods, tapping on her phone.

Joan looks through the two dating apps she has, scrolls rapidly through message history, and sighs loudly. “Yeah, I think I’m done.”

Damien regards her curiously. “Sounds good. Uh. Does this change our whole thing?”

“Not necessarily,” she says. Damien squeezes her calf, but she’s still looking at her phone for the time being.

“Alright,” Damien says, turning back to the television. Part of him is excited at the prospect that she’s exclusively fucking around with him, now. Still, he doesn’t want to read into it too much. Joan is usually pretty clear and transparent about her wants and desires.

A few moments later, Joan drops her phone on the coffee table. “There. Apps are officially deleted.”

“Woohoo,” he says, for lack of anything better to say.

Joan hums pleasantly and runs her hand over a roll in her stomach from where she’s got her knee propped up. “Damien?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

He looks at her like she’s suddenly grown a second head. Well, that’s not a great sign, but Joan keeps her face blank. “As in, like, hypothetically?” Damien eventually asks.

“What? No... why would I ask that hypothetically?”

“I don’t know! How else would you mean it?” Damien’s still looking at her like he’s utterly _confused_ by her question, and Joan has a pinch to her face.

“Um. Literally? Clearly you don’t _have_ to be my boyfriend. We can just keep being fuckbuddies. And of course, we can stop any time either of us wants to, that’s how relationships work. That also means if you _did_ want to be my boyfriend, we could also stop whenever. That goes no matter what the relationship, although if you’re married it does require getting a court involve-"

“Joan.”

“Hm?”

“Yes, goddammit. Of course I want to be your boyfriend,” he says, breathing out. Joan smiles at him, slow, and happy.

“Okay. Be my boyfriend, then,” Joan says.

Damien laughs, nodding. “Okay,” he says, voice quiet.

Joan moves closer so she can kiss him. He kisses her back, his hands sliding up the back of his shirt that she’s wearing.

“Wait,” he mumbles against her lips. “Are you sure?”

“About?”

“Me being your boyfriend,” Damien starts, slow. “Are you sure you want to date me. Like, seriously?”

Joan looks him in the eye, “If I wasn’t, would I have asked you?”

“I know, but… do you realize what you’re getting into, here? You know what I’m like, Joan. And I’ve never- I’ve never really been someone’s _boyfriend_ before,” Damien explains.

Joan hums and runs her fingers through his hair, “Look. I know you’re a _touch_ possessive, and I don’t mind that between us, in the bedroom. I trust and expect you to keep doing your best if we are ever around someone who shows me romantic attention. Although, I don’t frequently get that from people outside of dating apps.”

Damien just frowns slightly, “I mean, you deserve all the romantic attention in the world. But, yeah, that _does_ make it easier on me, although… your ex is still in love with you.”

Joan sighs quietly, “And I expect you to show as much restraint as you can when we are around him, which, hopefully won’t be much. _I_ do not return his feelings and I don’t plan on trying to befriend him. I trust you to know that its _you_ I care about, Damien.”

Damien nods slowly, “Okay.”

“We can still take things slowly, of course. But.. neither of us want children, and I’ve truly enjoyed spending time with you. We hardly even argue in earnest, which was surprising to me, but it seems like we have fairly compatible conflict styles so far, and I have faith we would be able to navigate a more serious conflict should one actually arise.”

Damien just nods slowly, and then kisses her again. “You are a wonderful, beautiful human being,” Damien laughs, and Joan laughs a bit as well.

“Thanks?”

“I know you just said that bit about taking things slow, but, will it freak you out if I tell you I love you?”

“Like, right now? Or, ever?”

“Joan.”

“I mean, on paper it _is_ a little early in the relationship although- our first date was at least four months ago and we've been fucking even longer than that. So, actually, I wouldn’t think it unreasonable if you were sure enough in your feelings by now to say you loved me.”

Damien stares at her, shaking his head, “I wasn’t asking for a logical explanation on this one, Joan.”

“I know,” Joan says, pressing her lips together. “You also know what _I’m_ like, Damien, and you agreed to date me anyway.”

Damien smiles at her, slowly. “You know… I _was_ gonna to tell you I love you, but, you’re obnoxious enough as it is. Wouldn’t wanna stroke your ego.”

“Wow, rude. Don’t be so mean to your girlfriend, Damien,” Joan frowns at him, but she has to fight to keep it there.

“Just kidding,” Damien breathes out another laugh. “I fucking love you, Joan.”

Joan lets out a joyful laugh of her own, and then leans down to kiss him, hard. Damien pulls her body down against him, and she opens her mouth to let his tongue press against hers. “I want you to fuck me, Damien.”

“Bedroom?”

“Right here.”

Damien smirks at her, and then kisses her on the neck. “Well. As the lady requests…”

Quickly, they shift so she’s on her back with a throw pillow under her hips, and he slips his fingers in the band of her underwear. She helps him with getting them off her legs, and then he brings his fingers to the lips of her cunt to rub circles around her clit, a familiar move by now. Joan breathes out, skimming her hand up and under his shirt to caress his side.

Damien moves to take off his t-shirt, and then get rid of his pants. Joan hikes her foot on the back of the couch as he comes up between her legs, pressing their bodies together as he kisses her on the lips, then down her throat and over her collar and the skin exposed by his loose tank top she’s wearing.

“You’re so beautiful. I love you,” Damien kisses under her ear and Joan bites her lip, sliding her hands over his chest and up to his hair to bring him forward to kiss her on the mouth again.

“Damien,” Joan breathes against his lips, and Damien trails kisses down her body again before he finally pulls off his underwear and crawls up between her legs.

Then, he lines up his cock with her body, pushing into her slowly. Joan gasps and pulls him forward to kiss him once more as he does.

Damien rocks into her, taking it a bit more gently than usual. Joan rolls her hips up to meet him, whining in the back of her throat. “God, Joan,” he sighs, building up to a harder thrust as she scratches down his back, like usual.

Damien presses his forehead against hers as Joan arches her back. “Fuck me harder,” she sighs, and Damien does as she asks.

“You drive me so wild,” he tells her, and she smiles a little, then shuts her eyes to kiss him and tug on his hair.

“I wanna feel you come inside me,” Joan says against his lips, a little softer than the pace of their bodies moving in tandem, and Damien nods.

“Anything you want, baby,” Damien says, nipping at her jaw. “I won’t even make you beg for it today. You’re such a good little slut for me,” Damien laughs softly in her ear as she shivers.

“Mmmh,” Joan breathes a laugh as well. “I’m _always_ a good little slut for you.”

“You are,” he agrees, and she kisses him again. They laugh against each other’s lips until it breaks off into a moan from her, and he dips his head to suck on the skin of her collar.

“Damien,” Joan whines, “come for me, I wanna feel it. Fuck me harder,” she says, and Damien shutters against her.

Damien sits back a bit and grips her hip, fucking her harder as she asked. He watches as she bites her lip, her hair falling out of her messy ponytail. She’s still wearing his shirt, too, as she gasps and moans beneath him.

Damien fucks deep into her and holds her tight as he comes inside her, watching her expression change as she’s sent over her own threshold with him, her back arching off the couch as he works her through it slowly.

“Fuck,” Joan pants, and she grabs onto his shoulder to bring him back down and kiss any of the sense that was still left in him.

“Joan,” Damien mutters against her lips, but he stays on top of her for another few minutes. Joan just laughs lightly. “Good, baby?”

“Yeah,” Joan says, nuzzling her forehead against his cheek, feeling the scratch of his facial hair. He kisses her all over her face and she laughs more.

“I think, for once… we should order in,” Damien says, and Joan hums nods along with him. “I’ll cook for you tomorrow, hm?”

“Sounds good to me,” Joan murmurs, and they kiss once more before slowly starting to peel themselves off the couch and to get half-decent again.

Damien orders from an app, and they snuggle on the couch to wait for it.

They decide to stay in the living room to eat their food once it arrives, forgoing the formality of the dining room.

As they’re finishing up, Joan leans her head on Damien’s shoulder.

“I love you too, you know,” she says softly, glancing up at Damien a moment after she says it. He smiles.

“Yeah, I know,” Damien says, kissing her on the head. “It’s still nice to hear you say it.”

Joan smiles, and kisses him on the cheek. “I love you, Damien,” she repeats, and he chuckles.

“I love you too, Joan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> annnnnnnnnnnnd she's done. this was unbelievably fun to write!! if you enjoyed, feel free to leave a comment or kudos~


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